I See Not Your Face
by TazoClarity
Summary: Lily/James/Harry with plenty of complication. Harry gets a little more than he bargained for when he looks into the Mirror of Erised. His desire for his parents might be so deep that he's fallen into a place in the past where his parents are alive and whole…and have no idea who he is. Mostly takes place Marauder's Era, but Harry's right in the thick of it.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Not sure what's gotten into me today, but I had an idea…and I don't know if it has been done by anyone before, but I guess we'll see. And I'm in the mood to write, so what the heck? Another WIP. Lily/James/Harry and as I love playing with time travel, I thought I'd play with it in the HP universe. If it sucks, let me know, and I promise not to continue. If it doesn't, let me know, and I'll keep going. In any case, happy reading!

Chapter 1:

"_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." _

They never left. He watched their reflections, smiling at him, and they never left.

It was so far from the truth of things.

Harry studied every minute detail of their faces. His mother's shining eyes and the deep hazel of his father's hidden behind slim, square glasses. He had been staring at them forever and yet he still felt compelled to reach out and touch the red-haired woman's soft, smiling face. He didn't really know what was stopping him either, as his fist clenched briefly at his side. They were young—Harry had never dreamt them so young, but their faces carried none of those soft creases that came with age.

Of course, if they were alive now, they would look a little different, Harry thought to himself. More like adults, maybe Harry would even have a little brother or sister. Or both.

Mere months ago, his parents had died in a car accident. It was unremarkable, simple and unforgiving, but there it was. And it demanded nothing of him.

But that hadn't been the way it went at all. A car accident didn't kill Lily and James Potter, a car accident _couldn't_ have killed Lily and James Potter. Because they were a witch and a wizard and they died because they stepped in front of him, and looked Lord Voldemort in the eye, and took the certain death meant for him…for him.

He tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes, but it didn't stop him from stepping closer still to the mirror and pressing his hands against it like it could somehow give way and he could fall into the embrace of his mother, feel his father's hand on his shoulder the way it lay comforting on his wife's right now.

"I know you didn't want to leave me," Harry whispered solemnly, feeling more and more as if the figures looking back at him weren't just shadows or wishful impressions. He was suddenly filled with a sorry thought that made him look at his hands still resting on the cold glass, guilt welling up at the bottom of his stomach. "I'm sorry that you thought you had to."

One of the most disappointing things that Harry learned about the magical world was that they still couldn't raise their dead. His life was entirely transformed, and yet he was still a shadow in this mirror, looking at parents he had never really known. It seemed so instinctively unfair, like receiving a large box on Christmas morning to only find something you didn't ask for and don't really like (though Harry wasn't a real expert on Christmas presents).

Carried away in his thoughts, he knew he must have been imagining it, but when he had the courage to look up at his parents again, he thought he saw a change in them. A darkening in his father's eyes and a disconcerting tilt in his mother's head, like she wanted him to take those last words back, his assertion that maybe they didn't have to die.

But he _was_ imagining it. Because Lily Potter couldn't think anything anymore. Nor could his father ever be angry or disturbed again. At least not here before him, in this stupid mirror that showed him just what he wanted to see.

Because they were gone. Whether they were in the Muggle Heaven that Aunt Petunia and Mrs. Figg talked about or just buried in the ground, they were not with him. And for a glimmer of a moment, Harry wished that he _could_ be with them, wherever they were.

And that glimmer of a moment became a shameful, but persistent thought as Harry stared up at his parents. And his hands burned on the glass, making him feel oddly like drifting off to sleep.

"_It does not do well to dwell on dreams."_

And then there was nothing more to want or wish for.

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She may not have liked him, but Lily Evans did have to admit that she didn't mind having James Potter around when strange things happened. The bloke was pretty good in a crisis (that is, when he wasn't busy being the _cause_ of said crisis).

And Lily had to say, she would consider bodies that came tumbling out of nowhere in the early morning to be a proper crisis.

Of course, she also had to wonder why he always had to be around when the trouble started. It made her very suspicious.

"Hexing _first_-years for kicks now, Potter?" she asked sharply as she knelt next to the fallen young boy. "Merlin, what happened?"

When Lily had rushed to the side of the fallen presumable-student, James Potter wasn't far behind, and he blanched even as he towered over her and the victim, looking for all the world truly indignant. "Aw, come off it, Evans. You know you can't blame me for this when we were just having a nice chat all the way over there."

Lily conceded his point with a slight raise of her eyebrows as she gently turned the boy over and checked for his pulse with two fingers. "I wouldn't consider rejecting you for the fifty-third time to be 'chatting' with you… He's alive." She peered in to the boy's face, frowning as she mulled over the features. "Have you ever seen him before?" There was something very familiar about this young boy, but she knew she hadn't seen him before… if for nothing but the fact that there was an obvious, lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. That was hardly something that she would miss in a new student, especially as a prefect when it was her _job_ to keep track of the younger students.

"I dunno, maybe he's not a Gryffindor…? We best get him to the Hospital Wing," James said and Lily glanced up to see him looking genuinely concerned in a way that made her heart jump a little. These were the moments when she didn't think he was half-bad. "_Mobilicorpus_." The small, limp body lifted off the ground and floated weightlessly ahead of them as they headed up to the castle.

"You know," James said conversationally after a moment, "there's a good chance that this wasn't an accident…whatever happened to him."

Lily glared over at him, some of her positive feelings washing away a bit. "I never thought it was. It's never harmless when one of the younger years turns up unconscious outside at the crack of dawn. Something must've gone wrong."

"I mean it could have been those sodding Slytherins prepping for their Death Eater duties. Rosier or Mulciber or Avery…_Snivellus_."

Lily ignored the brief pang in her chest to acknowledge the truth in James' words. If this boy was a Muggle-born, well…then they would know. When the war heated up in the Wizarding World, it also seemed to intensify within the castle walls. It wasn't uncommon to see Gryffindors dueling Slytherins in the corridors or various "purities" of blood turning up in the Hospital Wing. Lily tried not to stereotype, but it wasn't too hard to see where the Dark Magic was coming from. She couldn't imagine what Hogwarts would be like next year when it was already this bad. And she knew that there was a target on her back.

And that target wasn't lost on James Potter, either. The git continually insisted on walking her to class or found excuses to accompany to the library, the lake, even tried to go on patrol with her once (though she quickly hexed the urge right out of him). Lily had made it clear that she didn't need his help, she could take care of herself, and she didn't want him inflicting his needless company upon her, but James Potter could never pass up a chance for heroics…or the chance to jinx a Slytherin…or the chance to go on and on about how much he fancied her and how much she _should_ fancy him.

In any case, though she didn't fight unless provoked, she had to admit that she and James were getting pretty good at dueling as a team. There was a strange fluidity to their actions and it was true that the Death Eater-initiates had begun to lay off of her a little more. But Potter still drove her mental and she really didn't _want_ his help. Especially since it made all of her friends (and everyone else in the god-forsaken school!) fairly insufferable the way they drooled over James and his chivalrous attitude, talking about how they _wished_ that they could all have a bloke like Potter who was so singularly devoted and handsome and talented.

Well, they could _have_ him if they wanted, because she sure didn't. Even if he _ever_ did manage to make his ridiculous hair lay flat.

While they were certainly friendlier than they had been in years past, other things had changed as well. Things that prevented her from ever saying "yes" when he asked her out.

James cast a glance over a his red-headed companion, and then shrugged, not expecting her to answer his speculation anyway. A thread of guilt surged through him for suggesting Snape's involvement. It was a definitive sore spot for her and had been since the summer at the end of their fifth year.

Mudblood.

He often wondered what would have happened if he and Sirius hadn't set themselves on Snape that afternoon. Would Snivellus have ever uttered the word wrenched from him in humiliation…directed it at Lily? Would they still be mates, continuing to baffle each other's closest friends?

Guilt told him 'yes'. Practicality and logic told him 'no'.

Eventually, something had to break with a friendship so fundamentally opposed. But every now and then, James was sorry that Lily saw him as the one who broke it.

Both entrenched in their own minds, they were quite startled when their young passenger twitched and blinked his eyes.

"Blimey!" James muttered and Lily gasped softly and lost her focus on the spell, causing the boy to drop unceremoniously to the ground.

He cried out in pained surprise and Lily immediately dropped to her knees beside him, putting a hand on his forehead. "Oh, bloody _hell_, I'm so sorry! I'm not used to people just…waking up when I'm floating them like that—not that I do it very often, but—are you alright?!"

The boy rubbed the back of his dark, mussed head (now where have I seen that before? Lily would have rolled her eyes if the timing had been more appropriate) and fully opened his startlingly green eyes as he sat up, steadier than Lily assumed him to be. "I'm…" The boy trailed off as he got a good look at the young woman kneeling next to him. "I'm…"

It was then that James decided to move into the boy's field of vision with a lopsided smile. "Don't worry, mate. Evans is an old pro at rendering the male species speechless with her glowing presence. C'mon Evans, give the little bloke some room to catch his breath."

Lily was supposed to snap back with some sharp retort, but for reasons unbeknownst to James, she merely scooted back a few inches, saying nothing, still looking into the mirror of this young boy's eyes. A moment later, she blinked and said, "I'm Lily."

Immediately, the boy nodded, still looking dazed. "I …I know…" And then, as quickly as he had spoken, his mouth dropped back open like a fish rooting for water, glancing between his two rescuers. "I mean…I mean, where am I?"

Lily and James exchanged another concerned glance that was not lost on the object of their concern. Though he seemed disoriented, there was also a strange mix of panic and…was it eagerness? "Er…am I dead? Is this Heaven?"

After a moment of bewildered silence, Lily's face finally smoothed over and she responded matter-of-factly. "Of course not. Trust me, if it was, _he_ wouldn't be here." She jerked her thumb back at James, who spluttered with indignation.

The boy looked more than a little startled at that, and Lily sighed. He was so young, and there was an acute possibility that something had happened to him. Maybe he was attacked or, at the very least, lost. "Do you know how you got here…?" She realized that she hadn't even asked him his name, but he got the hint.

"Harry," he said. The sudden numbness in his expression made her worry that she had upset him somehow. "And I don't know… I think, I think I…"

Lily took his hand, hoping to quell his disoriented rambling. "Okay, okay, just—what do you last remember? Can you tell us that?"

Now James knelt next to them, his usually jocular expression sobering. "Were you attacked?"

The boy—Harry—swallowed. "I was…Dumbledore was with me. He was there."

"Dumbledore?" James said, not looking particularly like he believed the younger boy. "Right. Were you attacked?"

But again, Harry gave no real answer. He was looking between them, his attention shifting back and forth as if he couldn't believe his eyes. It both unnerved Lily and sharpened her observation. She really looked at him for the first time since they found him lying on the ground.

Relieved to look away from Harry's scrutiny, she turned to James. "What is he, your cousin or something?"

"Huh?"

She sighed. "Forget it." She didn't know how she didn't notice the resemblance immediately. Perhaps because this boy didn't seem nearly as smarmy as his elder lookalike. But Harry looked nearly exactly like the James Potter whom Lily had met on the train in her first year, but a gentler and more soulful version. Apparently, they even shared a visual impairment, she thought, noting the round glasses. But different eyes. Completely different.

"What happened to your forehead?" James asked and Lily subtly smacked him on the shin. She had seen the scar as well, but she was too polite to say anything. It didn't look fresh enough to have any connection with this incident, and it might have some terrible memory attached to it.

She did have to admit though, it _was_ strange, that scar. Very definitively lightning-shaped. Like his head had literally cracked. At James' words, Harry clamped a hand over the peculiar disfigurement and pulled out of his wordless daze. "It's still there?"

And now James was looking at the boy like he had quite lost his mind. "Er…yeah?"

"It's all right," Lily said. "You don't have to talk about it. We need to figure out what happened to you." She released his hand, quite forgetting that she had been holding it all this time, though Harry hadn't seemed to mind. She stood and brushed off her robes. "I think you need the Hospital Wing—"

"No! I mean…I'm fine." Harry protested, panic creeping once again into his voice. "You're not going, are you?"

"Well no," Lily said, taken aback. "We can't just leave you here. Are you sure you don't need to be checked out? You seem a little confused."

"I'm fine," Harry insisted. "I—Is Professor Dumbledore here…now?"

"O'course," James said. "He's the Headmaster, isn't he?" James held out a hand to help Harry up, but Harry opted to push himself to his feet, stumbling just slightly backward.

"I'm fine," he said to Lily, who flicked her hand out reflexively when she saw him wobble. "Could you just…stay…and take me to Professor Dumbledore?"

"I dunno…" James was rubbing the back of his hair again. "You reckon Dumbledore's awake?"

"We'll take you," Lily said firmly, grabbing the young boy's hand again and pulling him towards the castle. She didn't bother to answer James. Crazy old geniuses struck Lily as the type to get an early start. And if he wasn't awake, well… this _was_ important.

And the panic in Harry's voice. She didn't like it at all. In fact, it made her feel a little anxious herself.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'll probably put up another chapter or two to see if there's any interest in this. Like I said, if there isn't, I'll stop :). Two things I noticed: story is unfolding quicker than I imagined it would and Dumbledore interrupts people A LOT in this chapter. He should probably be a little more polite. :) Tell me if you're enjoying this, I'm not sure if this line of plot is interesting to anyone but me haha. Happy reading!

Chapter 2:

Wordlessly, Harry allowed himself to be pulled along by… his mother.

His mother.

He could scarcely _think_ those words without his heart thudding a little harder. His hands were shaking, but thankfully she hadn't noticed the way his fingers trembled against her palm. And his _father_ was following along in their wake, mumbling about "bossy birds". What was going on? Was this really happening?

Lily let go of Harry's hand once she was assured that he was steady and following her lead. He missed it more than he would have admitted, but then James finally sped up to jog backwards in front of them, his eyes on Harry's mother. "Hey, Evans, do you even know the password to give the stone gargoyles?"

She rolled her eyes, the same ones that Harry saw in the mirror every day, and gave James a withering look. "I'm a prefect, Potter. I know you don't know much about them, seeing as you could never hope to be one, but the prefects have the password to the Headmaster's office in case of an emergency."

"And this is an emergency," his eyes dropped down to Harry, who felt a little thrill tingle in his spine. His dad was so wicked cool. Harry could tell by his easy and relaxed air that he had been born to this world and even in the few minutes he had spent here, James gave the impression that he held it all in the palm of his hand.

He liked them both, he decided. They were no longer pictures or reflections in the mirror but living and breathing people with personalities. However, they didn't seem to be too crazy about each other…or at least, Lily didn't seem to be too crazy about James.

"You know, mate, you could be my little brother." James squinted at the boy through his glasses. "I see a resemblance."

"Never mind I said that about ten minutes ago."

"Oh, that's what you were going on about?" James grinned at her. "And here I thought you never paid attention to my looks, Evans."

"Shut it." Rolling her eyes, she glanced down at Harry again. "I'm sorry about him. You know Potter, I think I've got it from here. Why don't you go find someone else to bother."

"No!" It was out of his mouth before Harry could hold it back and they both stopped, startled a little by his abrupt plea.

Harry felt his face get a little hot, but his teenaged father inadvertently came to his rescue. "See, Evans? He likes me!"

"Merlin only knows why…"

The boy between them decided that the best thing he could do for the time being would be to keep his mouth shut. He remembered the feel of Lily's hand in his own and the grass beneath his head. Everything felt so real…but could he be dreaming? It seemed so vivid… Why wouldn't he wake up? He didn't know too much about the limits of the Wizarding World, but the eleven-year old felt it safe to say that he had gotten himself into quite a situation. But he felt confident that Dumbledore would know what to do. Dumbledore _had _to know what to do.

The gargoyles that guarded the headmaster's office looked even more unamused than usual at their arrival, if that were even possible of the grotesque stone creatures. Lily assertively stepped in front of them. "Acid Pops."

"It's very early, young lady," one of them grumbled reprovingly. Lily groaned.

"Will you just let us through? It's important!"

"Oh right away," the other one said dryly, and they parted to admit the three.

"Concrete gits…" James muttered, hopping restlessly from one foot to the other. Harry gaped at him in fascination. So his phantom-hallucination-whatever-he-was father was a morning person. And his mother seemed irritated with his inability to keep still.

"Heel, Potter."

James merely grinned and looked up as they rose, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Harry was now getting the impression that there was more to it than James being an early-riser. He appeared to be really enjoying this, for whatever reason. That grin remained on his face as they entered the sacred grounds of the headmaster, and Harry's eyes widened at all manner of strange objects cluttering the room. He wouldn't have imagined Dumbledore's office looking like this, but by the same token, it was perfect.

"Good morning," came a pleasant voice from behind them. Harry jumped a little, wondering where exactly the headmaster had come from, being strongly reminded of one of his last memories before he landed here, in front of the mirror. The other two looked to have been expecting that sort of entrance and turned more smoothly toward the sound.

Albus Dumbledore did not look much younger than he did when Harry knew him, and the young boy didn't know what to make of that (was he really in the past?). His eyes found Harry quickly and they twinkled familiarly at him as he uttered a soft "ahh…" in what Harry didn't dare hope was recognition.

"A rather odd threesome to find in my office this early in the morning, but I never mind an interesting guest or two… Ms. Evans?"

Of course he would assume that Lily had the answers. She was a prefect and was the only person that could have gained them entrance to the headmaster. "Good morning, sir. I might have taken this up with Professor McGonagall, but I thought that—"

"Like I said, Ms. Evans, I don't mind at all. What is this about?" He was still eyeing Harry with interest. James continued to fidget with his robes, obviously impatient. And the headmaster was not surprised when James cut the girl off.

"Well you see, Headmaster," James knocked his head toward his younger counterpart. "This kid here fell from the sky this morning. I saw it right there on the Quidditch pitch! I was trying to get in some early morning practice and Evans dropped by to yell at me—"

"Oh, right!" Lily seethed on cue. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter—"

"—and out of nowhere! The little bloke was lying on the ground all by himself. Of course, we went over to investigate, and when we got him up, the little guy didn't have a clue where he was." After James' enthusiastic delivery, he looked around at them and paused dramatically. "And _that_ …is what happened."

"He's merely here as a witness, Professor." Lily shot James a heated look that ordered him to shut his mouth, in no uncertain terms. Then she smiled reassuringly down at the younger boy with her. "His name is Harry, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him, so we didn't take him to the hospital wing, but… we just don't understand how he got here and…we thought it would be best to bring him to you."

Dumbledore nodded, and watched the subject of discussion with enough intensity that Harry began to shift uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Harry?" Harry nodded, rendered momentarily dumb. "Tell me, do you know who I am?"

"Yes…" Harry muttered, hoping to be as honest as possible. "I know you."

"Do you go to school here?"

"Yes."

"What House?"

"Gryffindor."

Both of the other students started at Harry's words and Harry winced as Lily shook her head.

"Sir…I don't think that's possible, I—"

"I _know_, Ms. Evans. I know that you would already know this boy if he were a Gryffindor student, just as I know every student that attends this school. Now I must ask both you and Mr. Potter to wait outside please. I need to speak to young Harry alone."

Harry wasn't sure how Dumbledore knew exactly what he needed in order to talk to him, but he was relieved when his teenage parents obediently, albeit reluctantly, left the room. When the door made a thick, hollow sound, Dumbledore moved to his desk, gesturing for Harry to sit before him. With one last glance at the doorway, the barrier that now separated him from his confrontational parents, Harry sank into the proffered chair.

The old man steepled his fingers in front of him once he was settled, and continued to survey Harry quietly. The boy thought that this might be a signal to go on, but he didn't even know what to say. Suddenly, this whole thing began to really hit him. _How_ had this happened? And _how_ was he going to get back?

…did he even want to go back?

It seemed suddenly very long ago that the man in front of him said that it didn't do well to dwell on dreams. And he was pretty sure that if he asked, this man wouldn't remember saying such a thing to him at all.

"That is a very…peculiar scar you have on your forehead, Harry." Dumbledore extended one long finger to gesture to the lightning-bolt shaped scar. Harry rubbed it self-consciously, a little thrown off by the way the headmaster had decided to start their conversation. No accusation of lies or threats or even questions… Harry remembered asking Percy whether Dumbledore was a bit mad that first night at Hogwarts. And Percy had probably said it best: brilliant, but completely mad.

"I've had it since I was a baby," Harry said, the words coming out almost automatically. Dumbledore frowned at him.

"I can't imagine that is an ordinary scar…"

"No," Harry shook his head. "It isn't."

"But you know what strikes me as even more odd?"

"No, sir."

"Well, your extraordinary resemblance to Mr. Potter, the young man who found you this morning. I would say that it is…uncanny. Except for the eyes, that is."

"My mother's eyes," Harry murmured.

"Pardon?"

"I have my mother's eyes," Harry said again, this time realizing that he was speaking aloud. He flushed slightly, and Dumbledore smiled.

"Why don't we start from the beginning then, Mr. Harry…?"

"Potter, sir. Harry Potter."

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"So…what do you suppose they're talking about in there?"

At Lily's voice, James uncrossed his arms and straightened from his relaxed position against the wall. "You're asking me, Evans? You nervous about something?"

Lily huffed, shaking her head. "_No_. Why would I be nervous? That doesn't even make sense."

"I dunno, you just seem…a little jumpy about all of this."

"Because it's completely normal for little boys to drop out of the sky looking like little miniature Potters? Personally, I find that idea a bit frightening."

Instead of the smarmy response that she was expecting, James merely looked back at her, and his gaze was unusually probing. It was enough that her cheeks heated and she finally said "what?"

"You know, he has your eyes."

"Hmm?" She was uncomprehending, and James sighed.

"He has your _eyes_. Same color…green. The exact gorgeous color, shape, everything… No, really. The kid has them. So…he's not all me."

James was always complimenting her appearance. She knew that he thought she was fit. He had never had a problem declaring _that_ to the entire _school_, much to her annoyance and embarrassment. But this was a different kind of compliment; he said it so matter-of-factly, so plainly. He wasn't trying to woo her or show off—no one was around. And he wasn't hitting on her either…

"What did I say wrong this time?" She pulled herself out of her thoughts to see James watching her and obviously not liking what was displayed on her face. She smoothed her expression over as quickly as possible.

"You didn't say anything wrong. I'm just anxious. I hope Dumbledore can help Harry." She determinedly put the conversation back on track, removing other, unimportant things from her mind. Like James being sweet.

"Dumbledore will help 'im. And if Dumbledore can't…well, nobody can, can they?"

Lily groaned, her long hair falling into her face. "Try to be more reassuring, would you?"

James shrugged. "You saw Dumbledore in there…nothing fazes him. I'm sure the little bloke will be back where he came from in no time."

_Where he came from_…Lily pondered that. The boy said he was in Gryffindor. That was absolutely impossible, as part of Lily's job as a prefect was to know who all of those little buggers were. She would remember a baby-James Potter, for sure.

But it was funny, she would have assumed that a boy looking so like James would make her associate negative things with him. But she didn't.

In fact, part of the reason that this whole thing was making her anxious was the fact that she was finding herself...she didn't know how to describe it. She was _drawn_ to the boy.

And she didn't know why.

There was a rumbling, one that indicated that the staircase was being used again. Both Lily and James stepped back and waited for someone to appear.

"Professor McGonagall."

The older woman looked between them for a moment before finally resting her eyes on James. "Mr. Potter, if I've been woken up this early in the morning due to your shenanigans or disruptive, obnoxious declarations of your unrequited love for Evans, I quite assure you that your weekends will be booked with detentions for the rest of the semester."

Lily couldn't help but smirk at James being completely cowed by their Head of House. He threw his hands up, the picture of unconvincing innocence. However, McGonagall didn't even stick around to listen to his explanations, but brushed past both of them on to the door.

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Minerva McGonagall _did_ look younger, and Harry's eyes widened as she entered Dumbledore's inner sanctum, looking momentarily uncertain at the sight of Harry. Her hair was still in that signature tight bun, but darker and fuller-looking. And her face was not as harshly-lined as Harry had seen on his first day of Transfiguration. Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"It's alright, Harry. It is important that Professor McGonagall be here for what I would like to arrange."

Arrange? Dumbledore hadn't mentioned any _arrangements_ before now. He had just finished telling the old wizard everything he could possibly remember about what happened before he had ended up on the Quidditch pitch with two familiar-but-not faces hovering over him.

Yes, Harry was young, and didn't understand a lot of things. But he didn't think that whatever was happening was something that should be shared with a bunch of people. And the longer that he was here, the more uneasy he was beginning to feel. He felt a brief flare of impatience for Dumbledore in that moment. He was hoping that he would get some answers, some _help_.

After all, it was Dumbledore's mirror that had gotten him into this mess.

"Albus? What is the meaning of this?" she frowned at Harry. "Who is this boy? I just saw Potter and Evans waiting outsi—"

Dumbledore quickly cut across her. "Minerva, I must ask for your absolute discretion in this before I begin."

McGonagall blinked, glancing at Harry one more time before settling on the headmaster. "Of course, but—"

"Wonderful. I'd like you to meet Harry." With a sweeping gesture, Dumbledore indicated the boy in the room. "He has quite the story, and I'd like for you to hear it."

"Is he a new student?"

"As a matter of fact, Minerva, this boy happens to be a member of your House…or I should say _will_ be a member."

Harry hid a smile, as he saw McGonagall's lips getting thinner and thinner. She was clearly confused and she didn't seem to like that too much. It was a relief that some things were the same.

"Please reserve your judgment until you hear Harry's tale." Dumbledore put up a preemptory calming hand, wanting to get to the heart of the matter. "However, before he begins, there are two things that you should know. The first is that this young man seems to have come from a different time by means of a mirror that I shall have in my possession sometime in the future. The other, is that I believe Harry to be the son of the two Gryffindors standing just beyond the door."

A/N: More L/J and L/J/H interaction coming up. Of course, next we should find out what Dumbledore's plan is going to be… Maybe I'll throw you for a loop? Let me know if you like it!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: So, here we go again. A little more… just a fun fact, in this chapter, I make a small reference to something JKR once said about Lily and James. I personally think it's easy to find, but see if you can :). Most importantly, tell me if you like where this is going. The next chapter is where you'll meet some Marauders and other friends.

Chapter 3:

Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort when he was a year old. Albus Dumbledore had long-suspected that Voldemort's quest for immortality would lead him down one of the most forbidding roads that a wizard could possibly take. And though Harry's story was one with a lot of holes in it, it was also one that Dumbledore believed confirmed his suspicions.

Young Harry _had_ to return to his own time, as quickly and as quietly as possible. The very balance of the Wizarding World depended on it.

And then there was the mirror…a very, very distinct complication.

Dumbledore knew of the Mirror of Erised. And he knew where it currently resided. However, if his predictions were correct, they would have to depend upon Harry to make this work.

The child had…a very pure heart. The headmaster could sense the strength of it just from the mere hour he had spent in the boy's presence. Had the mirror _rewarded_ the boy? Dumbledore was inclined to think so.

Harry had now met the parents that he had never known. According to Harry, parents who had died protecting him. Why Voldemort ever went after them was not for Dumbledore to know at this point in time, as Harry himself had no idea. But the old wizard knew that the timeline could _not_ be disrupted. And to do that, they would have to at least _attempt_ to keep Lily and James in the dark…if their son could even bear to do so.

However…

Dumbledore looked up. Minerva was still sitting there with an immensely troubled look on her face, leaning away from the boy as if worried that if he got to close, that _she_ would become a phantom in the wrong timeline. Her eyes would flit to the scar on his forehead every so often. Dumbledore inclined his head and clapped his hands lightly.

"Well, now that we have an understanding, I think we should call Mr. Potter and Ms. Evans back in here, wouldn't you say, Minerva?"

He could see that his dear colleague was still very wary of his plan. He knew that he was stretching the reaches of her trust, but he also knew that she would not object now. There were things he could not explain to anyone, things that he was putting together through bits and pieces of events going on around them and Harry's story.

Harry, for his part, looked up at the headmaster in shock, anxiety flashing through his bright green eyes. Dumbledore suppressed a smile. The boy was unselfish. Even now, he seemed to be afraid that the headmaster would tell his parents the truth: that they were destined to marry young and die before they could see their only son grow up. Hiding that from them would be painful and difficult for the boy, but Dumbledore could see his desire to do so.

"Sir?" Harry finally spoke up. "You won't…I mean, you aren't…"

"No, I am not going to tell them anything that you told me, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "I am, however, going to give you what the Mirror of Erised meant for you to have. And I truly am sorry to only be able to give you so little time with them. But then, I need you to promise me something."

"What?"

Dumbledore leaned in a little further, to ensure Harry's attention. "I need you to _want _to go back."

Harry would not understand what Dumbledore was asking of him until he got there, but once he did, what needed to be done would be something that only a certain kind of person would be able to do. Harry, Lily, James…they were those kinds of people. In the midst of this fledging war of blood, Albus Dumbledore trusted in that.

He didn't wait for Harry to respond, but instead nodded to the Head of Gryffindor House, who wordlessly turned and admitted the two sixth-years back into the room.

James appeared to be about as tentative as Lily was this time. Both of them were uncertain as to their involvement at this point. They had expected to be summarily dismissed after handing Harry over to the proper authorities. And it was beginning to look like that was not going to happen.

"I have an appointment for the two of you," Dumbledore said, spreading his palms on his desk and pushing off to stand. "I have already discussed this idea with Professor McGonagall and she has decided to allow you, Mr. Potter and you, Ms. Evans, to leave Hogwarts grounds in order to accomplish this."

Lily was absolutely floored. She looked between McGonagall and Dumbledore, a thousand thoughts running through her head and not one of those thoughts coming to the forefront to even know where to begin.

James, however, didn't have that problem. "I'm going to say that this has something to do with the little bloke, but I don't understand what this has to do with either of us, Professor. I mean…we just found him. I don't think…" he trailed off. What did he think?

"Are you refusing my request, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore inquired, his eyes twinkling characteristically.

James started. "I—no…no."

"What would we have to do?" Lily finally found her voice after a long moment of silence. Dumbledore could have answered her, but he seemed to be deliberately waiting for Harry to speak up.

"There's this…thing…that I have to find," the eleven-year old finally said. "And it's not here, but I need it, and I need someone to take me to it. And Professor Dumbledore thought…" Harry looked between them almost shyly. "Well, he thought that it might be best for you to take me to it."

"What is it?" Lily said. True, she didn't have much of an idea of what was going on, but Dumbledore's line of thinking was baffling to her. There were certainly teachers better-equipped to deal with this, never mind that James had literally no position of authority and a propensity for trouble. And McGonagall was going along with it? Suddenly, the questions were forcing their way out of her mouth as they sprang to her head again, directed at Harry with sharp precision. "But… who are you? How did you get here? I mean, do you remember anything? Why were you unconscious in the middle of the bloody Quidditch pitch? And _why do you keep looking at me like that_?"

"Lily…" James said.

She hadn't meant to blurt out the last part, but it was already out of her mouth, and she immediately regretted it when the younger boy shrank back just the slightest bit and flushed, looking away from her. It was true, he had been looking at her…avidly was the only word she could think of to describe it. It was like she was some deity or goddess that had appeared to him and the boy was supplicating himself, desperate for her attention. There was a secret here, one that she was not privy to. And it had to do with the way Harry kept looking at her.

Or perhaps she reminded Harry of someone, like an older sister, maybe.

Lily almost jumped out of her skin when James dropped a gentle hand on her shoulder and he ignored her when she made a pretty weak attempt at throwing it off. So she let it be, feeling the warmth of it seep through her robes. "Lily has a point. We don't have a clue what's going on. And I dunno how we can help…"

Dumbledore nodded. He understood their concerns. "I know that you have questions and that this isn't ideal for either of you. Those are very understandable feelings. But I'm afraid that there are certain things about all of this that must be kept from you. Harry's situation is a very precarious one, and revealing more than absolutely necessary could set it all on its head. But I cannot impress upon you enough the importance of your involvement in this. _You two must be the ones to accompany him_."

"If that's okay with you," Harry mumbled, his expression a little chagrined after Lily's outburst. The girl sensed this and crouched a little to his level to apologize.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said sincerely. "This is just all a bit mad and I'm confused by all of it."

"Yeah, mate," James piped up. "We'll help you, though…or, er… I will…"

"So will I!" Lily responded, sounding almost like a protestation.

"Splendid," Dumbledore said brightly, looking rather pleased with his two students. "And fortunately, Harry, you decided to drop in on a Thursday morning, so Ms. Evans and Mr. Potter will have the weekend to get you to the Mirror of Erised."

"The Mirror of what?"

McGonagall hand-waved the question. "It's an ancient magical artifact, Potter. Do not concern yourself with it. I trust you and Evans will have returned by Monday morning."

James blinked and shrugged, honestly having no idea how long this bloody excursion would take. "Uh, sure…"

"Where is this artifact mirror located?" Lily asked. She would not look at James, or even _think_ about the fact that she had just committed to spending the weekend with him, with no barrier to maintain her tolerance beyond a shy, first-year wizard. She was sure there were better ways to spend her time off. Like throwing herself off the Astronomy Tower…

"It is with a dear old friend of mine, Mairead Mumford, who lives in Glastonbury… She had expressed an interest in examining it earlier this year and it should have been returned within the next few months. However, we do not have time to wait for her to finish her examination, and she has agreed to allow the three of you to make use of it. But really, my dear girl, getting there will not be your difficulty. It is what will come after."

McGonagall stepped forward and looked between the two students. "I am arranging train tickets at Kings' Cross for you once the school train delivers you there. You should have no trouble arriving in Glastonbury. Ms. Evans…Mr. Potter, you will meet Ms. Mumford at the train station…"

Lily frowned. Why did it feel like she was being sent in to the Quidditch championship without having ever ridden a broom? Unfortunately, this was sounding like a send-off, and she still wasn't even sure what she had agreed to. She glanced down at Harry, who didn't look any more confident than she felt.

"But where will he stay for now?" Lily asked. "We still have all day and tonight before we go. What should we tell people?"

"Harry's parents are thinking of moving to Britain from France. He is therefore shadowing an older student here in order to see if it is to his liking before his parents enroll him."

"He sounds like a bloody brat," James joked, to which McGonagall scolded, "language, Potter, really!" and then went on as if he hadn't interjected.

"He must stay close to one of you at all times, and _no one_ is to know what took place this morning." There was a downward tilt to her lips as she said this.

"But that's not…really true, is it?"

"Of course not, Potter!"

James rubbed a hand through his hair, causing his hair to resemble a jet black porcupine. "Blimey, this is some serious mission you have here, isn't it? We can't tell _anyone_?!"

"And that means even Mr. Black, James," Dumbledore said serenely. "I know that not all has been explained to you, but I am sure that you will know everything that you need to know by the time you have finished your journey. And I offer my deepest apologies for leaving you in the dark for now. But at this point in time, we have no choice. Any questions?"

Lily and James exchanged glances, feeling an extreme sense of camaraderie quite suddenly. Their disbelief also seemed to be mutual. Did they have any questions? _Really?_ James grinned at her as if to say, 'Go ahead, tell the old man that he's an insane tosser', but she only rolled her eyes at him and an unwilling smile spread across her face.

"No, not at all," Lily finally managed, turning to the other three occupants of the room, who were examining the interplay between them. "I guess we'll be off on Saturday morning, then?"

"And until morning," James said, tousling Harry's hair and making the younger boy duck under the vigorous motion with a groan. "We've got a wicked mysterious babysitting job."

Lily had absolutely no idea how she was going to explain this to any of her friends.

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A peculiar and uncomfortable disconnect fell around the three students as they left Dumbledore and McGonagall in the other room. Somehow, they had landed with each other this morning and no one was going anywhere for the next few days. And more than that, all of them were feeling something that sat oddly on them—this strange sense of familiarity. It was giving Lily a headache.

And yet it clung to her like stinksap, more powerful than déjà vu. She looked down at Harry and the thought that kept shooting across her mind like a comet, intense and burning, came up again. But this time, it held its place, waiting for her to acknowledge it, make it her own.

"Harry…"

The boy turned to her, and she saw those green eyes—not in a reflective surface. On him, it was arresting and she swallowed. She wouldn't think that—it wasn't even in the realm of possibility. And like her musings of James, she pushed the thought from her mind before it was even born. And Harry waited for her to speak, his head moving back ever-so-slightly in confusion to her silence.

James was waiting too. His eyes sober, as if he were being tormented by the same things. She couldn't meet his eyes for too long, in that moment, it was like staring directly into the sun.

"Harry," she said again, turning away. "Is there…is there anything that you can tell us? More than what Dumbledore said? Anything that will help us understand what is going on?" Her throat felt dry, and she swallowed again. "Like…why us?"

Harry bit his lip, only for a moment. And then, his face took on a fierceness that she hadn't imagined could fit on his face. And she thought yet again, _who was this boy_? "Not yet. But I hope so."

And for now, that would have to be good enough.

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The three students departed and McGonagall was turning towards Dumbledore before the door had even closed. "Albus, are you quite sure about this? This story… it's implausible at _best_! At worst, it's a sensational fairytale."

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Minerva, you don't believe that the power of the heart can take us anywhere, even in defiance of time itself?"

McGonagall would be inclined to agree with him on a normal day, but after hearing the story she just did, barely at sunrise, she had to resist rolling her eyes. "But what you're suggesting… Even the parts of it that don't stretch the very reaches of the laws of magic, I would be very reluctant to believe."

"Is that so? Which more…attainable parts do you find unbelievable? I'm curious…"

McGonagall could have pointed out the one part of the story that truly troubled her, but she didn't. Because to do so would mean to think on a desperately sad and concerning situation—two of her Gryffindor students, who were exceptionally bright and had so much to give the world, would have their lives shuttered out so soon. And with that sick, horrible premonition came the more painful knowledge that she could do nothing about it. Nevermind the sheer affirmation that wizard who was currently spreading such darkness would do far more before he was finally stopped. A storm cloud suddenly loomed over Minerva McGonagall's head, promising to haunt her for the foreseeable future. And when she looked up, Dumbledore was observing her knowingly.

"I will concede that the boy does resemble Mr. Potter a great deal, and the eyes… Well, not to speculate on the personal lives of my students, but… though Mr. Potter has made his _admiration_ for Ms. Evans perfectly clear for years now… Ms. Evans remains utterly unimpressed by him." McGonagall explained finally.

"Does she really?" Dumbledore asked mildly, a glint in his eyes beyond his half-moon spectacles. Again, the Gyffindor Head had to refrain from rolling her eyes. No matter how ridiculous or unrealistic the events may be, her colleague did have a rather irritating and, at the same time, reassuring habit of being unfailingly accurate in most things. And that knowledge alone gave her something to think about.

"Passion often walks a very tenuous line, Minerva. That's a little something I have learned throughout the years. A very tenuous line."

A/N: Review if you're so inclined. Thanks!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This is going up much sooner than I had originally planned for it to. Sirius is introduced and wacky hijinks ensues! This part is a little more fun, which is probably why I got it out so fast. Let me know what you think!

While Lily's sister Petunia would much rather pretend that Lily did not exist during the summer vacation months that found them both at home, every once in a while they managed a civil conversation. Lily recalled her sister telling her about a bizarre project that Muggle high schools created wherein a male and a female student had to take home a bag of flour and pretend it was their child. Partners were assigned randomly and you were monitored on your progress by reports and the physical state of the sack of flour. By the end of the week, if you came to class with an empty burlap sack, then it was safe to say that you failed the assignment.

Lily's bag of flour had just been assigned to her in the guise of a mysterious child with a strange lightning-bolt scar on his forehead and with looks astonishingly similar to those of the boy that had fancied her for ages and who she was determined never to give the time of day. And much like her sister, Lily had been assigned a partner whom she wasn't too sure would be able to return the bag of flour intact.

There weren't too many people walking the halls, most of them having already gotten to breakfast, but the ones that did were casting nosy looks towards the three Gryffindors, and Lily imagined they were wondering two things: why did Lily Evans look not at all bothered by James Potter's presence, and who was the youngest member of their bizarre trio?

"Do you think we've missed breakfast?" James asked her as they plodded along the corridor together. He wasn't wearing a watch, having left his in the Gryffindor locker room with his traditional school robes. He didn't seem at all bothered by the extra attention they were garnering.

Lily glanced at her own wrist and saw that they still had an hour to make it to the Great Hall before they would start clearing away the morning meal. Then she took in James' appearance. His hopeless hair, Quidditch robes limp with half-dried sweat, and broom most likely lying forgotten in the field where they found Harry. She frowned disapprovingly when she got a whiff of him, wondering how she hadn't noticed before this. "James, you have to shower. You smell like a mutt and you're still in your Quidditch uniform. I'll take Harry to the Great Hall and eat and…try to explain this to people…" Lily's voice dropped lower and lower as she began to consider how the hell she was going to be able to weave this falsehood convincingly. She had a maddening habit of blushing every time she told a lie, which would be such a great help when it came to this, she thought sarcastically. Dumbledore really was completely mad.

"Wot, Evans? You don't like my manly musk of exertion?" He puffed out his chest comically and before she had a chance to realize what he was doing and escape his reach, he threw a long arm around Lily's shoulders, drawing her into his sweaty embrace and causing Harry to turn and grin at the spectacle.

Lily elbowed James roughly but with a hint of playfulness. "You are such twat sometimes…get off, Potter! I'm surprised McGonagall didn't faint at the stench of you!"

"Minnie lives for the sweet scent of the Quidditch pitch, Evans. Why'd you think she lets me off tutoring Transfiguration when I'm top of the class? That woman loves having the Cup on display in her office."

"Ugh, James, _off_! You're gonna get your stink on me!"

"Shhh…Lilykins," Taking the chance of getting his head whacked off by her flailing arm, he rubbed his nose against her cheek, prompting a squeal and more frantic attempts to squirm away, "not in front of the little bloke, ya hear?"

The "little bloke" in question had stopped and turned to watch them, amusement plastered all over his face.

"You are _such _a child!" she responded, sighing in exasperation and briefly giving up the physical fight for a more effective tactic. "You let go or I'm going to hex all of your stupid hair off, Potter!"

That did it, and James released her, clutching at his rat's nest in dismay. "You leave these gorgeous locks alone, Evans," his tone was dead serious. "I spend a lot of time keeping this look up."

"Of course you do. And I'm sure that you think that's okay just because your best mate Black spends more time in front of a mirror than you do. But at least he doesn't spend that time arranging his hair so it looks like somebody hacked it up with a weed-whacker."

James stopped walking and tilted his head toward her. "What's a weed-whacker? Some kind of Muggle device?"

Harry laughed aloud at the question, causing Lily and James to remember that he was there. The boy had been so quiet this whole time that they were constantly forgetting. And Lily inwardly cringed at their behavior. James had this irritating way of making her seem much more irresponsible than she would prefer to appear. But their little charge gave no sign that he minded, and in fact, found it enjoyable.

"Who's Black?" Harry asked, curiosity overwhelming him. Dumbledore mentioned a "Mr. Black" before and now Lily had as well… He wanted to know more about what his parents were like, and he decided not to worry about the mirror and getting back to his time until tomorrow. There was no reason to worry over things that couldn't be helped.

"Sirius Black is Potter's imbecile friend," Lily jumped in before James could answer himself, and James growled at her description. Lily smiled prettily at the boy. "You'll probably like him. He's a great prat, but he acts like a dog and thinks everything is some big joke."

"He's funny and brilliant and he pulls the best pranks," James told Harry.

"Oh Prongs, stop, I'm blushing!"

"Speak of the devil…" Lily muttered.

Sirius Black was sauntering their way, smiling so you could see every last one of his white, perfect teeth. He was big and incredibly good-looking and Harry could see why his mother had described Sirius as a "dog". Even after only a few seconds, there was some vibe, an air of boundless energy and wildness that gave Harry the impression of a great, lumbering animal. Man's best friend.

"And he doth appear, love." Sirius waggled his eyebrows at Lily, then smirked. "Don't tell me that you finally took the hint and decided to shag my poor, pathetic mate after all of this time."

"Hey!" James objected while Lily hissed, "_Sirius_. Don't say that in front of Harry!"

"Harry? What are you on about, you crazy bird?" Sirius looked behind him, as if expecting to see someone approaching, before he finally had the brains to look down. "Oh, hey! Who's the ickle firstie?"

"Terribly observant person, you are," James said dryly. "This is Harry. And before you ask, no; he isn't related to me in any way."

"Well of course not," Sirius winked at his best mate. "Otherwise, I would have met him at the _smashing_ family reunion picnic your parental units had last summer." He held out a hand to the Harry. "I'm Sirius Black. And if you're really not a member of the Potter clan, you look like a magical cloning experiment gone wrong, if we're being honest. That's some rotten luck, mate."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Ignore him," Lily instructed. She gave Black a look of disdain, but it didn't have much bite to it. "Shouldn't you already be in the Great Hall? Shoveling food down your throat at such a disgusting rate that the rest of us are nauseated at the mere sight of you?"

Unruffled by her shot at his behavior, Sirius patted his lean stomach contentedly. "I'm a growing boy, Evans. And I _was_ looking for my missing mate before running into the lot of you." He frowned slightly at James. "So why are you lovebirds babysitting?"

Lily let James do the talking, assuming he would be a better liar than she, also as a good way to ignore Sirius' goading 'lovebirds' remark. But James shrugged, not offering much by way of information. "It was sudden…just a thing, you know? Look, I'll explain later, Padfoot. I've gotta take a shower before Charms."

Before anybody could say another word, James took off at a jog toward the Quidditch pitch, waving back at them. "I'll see you at first period!" Then, thinking Lily couldn't see, James sent Sirius a signal behind his back.

"Oh, that coward… And don't even bother, Black." Lily snapped as James footsteps echoed smaller and smaller.

"What?" Sirius asked, his eyes widening innocently.

"I saw what he just did. If I catch you following me around, I'll Leg-Lock you so good that you'll be hopping to class for the rest of the day."

All that threat earned her was a wolfish grin and a wink. "Got to keep those nasty ol' Slytherins at bay, love. I won't be far!" He did leave then, but Lily knew that he would make good on his promise. She rubbed a hand over her eyes, groaning.

"Why would he follow you around?" Harry asked.

"No good reason, really…" Lily said. She motioned for Harry to follow her as she started off again. "It's just…things have been pretty rough around here lately."

"Slytherins?"

Lily raised her eyebrows at the boy. "What do you know about the Slytherins?"

"That most of them are terrible prats," Harry said truthfully. Lily laughed, shaking her head.

"They really are, aren't they?" Harry seemed like a good kid, if just a bit quiet. So she decided that it probably wouldn't hurt to treat him more like an adult. "It's all this blood purity nonsense. It's getting worse and worse."

"Blood purity?"

"Well…I'm a Muggle-born, Harry. In other words, my parents aren't magical at all and I didn't know about any of this until I got my letter to the school."

Harry looked up at her, incomprehension written all over his face. "I was raised by Muggles too. What's the matter with that?"

"Nothing is…" She casually took note of the wording of his explanation, and as they entered the Great Hall, her eyes flickered over to the green and silver of the Slytherin table, the hateful stares and mutters. "But not everybody sees it that way."

"So, er…James?" The name almost got stuck on his tongue, and she thought it sounded indescribably strange. "He's trying to protect you?"

Lily flushed, though she wasn't sure why. "Yeah, I guess. But I can handle myself just fine, I'll have you know."

Harry smiled, and weirdly enough, Lily's heart lifted at the sight of it, as if his smile was the one thing she had been waiting for. "I bet you can," was all he said.

Harry really was a very sweet boy.

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"What do you have there, Lil?" A dark-haired girl set her eyes on Harry and then leaned into Lily with a teasing smirk as the red-headed girl took her seat. "Blimey. So _this_ is your illegitimate lovechild with James Potter!"

Harry had been examining the room around him when the girl's words had his eyes snapping back to the Gryffindor table. People kept saying stuff like that. What was the _deal_ with his parents?

"Oh, yeah, when I was eight years old I gave birth to him. Stop about Potter, Mary. Like I haven't heard it all before." Lily brushed off the comment and the giggles as if it were nothing, giving Harry the distinct impression that this was not a first-time occurrence. His embarrassment at the girls' examination of him removed any hidden enjoyment he could feel at the irony of the Mary girl's teasing.

"This is Harry," Lily put a hand on his shoulder as he slid in next to her. "He's um…possibly moving here and he's shadowing James and me to see what Hogwarts would be like. Aren't you, Harry?"

"Yeah…yes, I am." Harry stumbled over his words. He hadn't realized before how weird it would be to walk around telling people this. And considering Lily's plastic delivery of the same lie, it didn't come very naturally to her either.

Another girl, with honey-brown hair and blue eyes crinkled her nose at him. "I've actually never seen someone transfer to Hogwarts. That's odd. Why is he shadowing you and Potter?"

Lily began to feel her cheeks get warm. "Wrong place at the wrong time, I guess. We ran into Dumbledore and he asked if we could, you know, help him out."

"You and James?" Mary deadpanned. "Wrong place at the wrong time, huh?"

"He _looks_ like Potter's twin."

"Really? I hadn't noticed…" Lily murmured. "Harry, do you want some toast?"

"Sure," Harry said. He watched as she buttered it for him, and he bit back the urge to tell her that he could do it himself. Some of this…it was just weird. Like, she was his mother, and she didn't even know it. She had an antagonistic relationship with his father rather than a romantic one. She wasn't married, she was still in school. And yet, she was buttering his toast for him and being really nice to him. And her friends were watching her, glancing every so often at each other.

"Lilykins!" A familiar voice bellowed. "There you are, sweetheart! I brought some friends to come see your and James' new little friend!"

There was no way that he hadn't been yelling deliberately loud enough to draw attention from half of the breakfasting students. A flicker of annoyance flowed through Harry. He really hated any extra attention being drawn to him, and definitely not now.

"Brilliant," Lily grumbled. "I thought I had gotten rid of him for at least fifteen minutes more…"

Sirius insinuated his muscular frame in beside Harry and nearly pushed him off the bench when he reached over to jostle Lily's shoulder. "Hey, love! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Not nearly long enough. Hey, Remus," Lily smiled at the tall, slender boy with longish hair standing over Sirius.

"Hey, Lily. Sorry to bother you all, but Sirius said we _had_ to see something. And now of course, he's gone off track and…"

"No, I haven't! If you lot would shut _up_, you'd see what I was about to point out."

"You're obviously about to show them Potter's mini-me," one of the girls said, smirking. "The mysterious boy that Lily and James are 'watching'."

"Right you are, Katie!" And with a flourish, Sirius gestured to his left, down to Harry, who was looking between Remus and Peter and trying his best to ignore his father's best mate. "Will you look at this, boys?"

"Oh, Sirius, knock it off!" Lily glared at the handsome Gryffindor and pushed away from the bench, sure to nudge him as hard as she could manage. "He's not some animal at the zoo."

Peter grinned down at Harry. "Sorry about Sirius, mate. He's incorrigible. But it _is_ weird how much you look like our pal, James. Where are you from?"

"France," Lily said quickly, fearful that Harry wouldn't remember.

"Ooooh, say something in French!" the girl with honey hair said.

"You play Quidditch?" Sirius asked Harry, and Lily got fed up.

"Shove off, Black," she demanded, pulling Harry off of the bench by his hand. The attention was unnerving now. She didn't know why, but she hadn't imagined that this would get so crazy so fast. She briefly wished that Dumbledore had thought to change Harry's appearance so his similarity to James would go unnoticed. It, at the very least, would have deterred Sirius. "You're going to scare him off. And stop ogling at him because he looks like your best mate. It's not even that much of a resemblance!" That was a ridiculous lie.

"I play Quidditch," Harry's words stumbled over themselves as Lily yanked him up. It was the first time he had spoken since he sat down, and _of course_ it was for the subject of Quidditch.

_Men_, Lily thought in irritation.

"Do you really?" Sirius sounded excited and stood up with them. "What position, kid?"

"Seeker. I just started…at, at my school."

Sirius nodded to himself, smirking. "Yeah, you're built for it. I always thought Jamesie should have been a Seeker too. But no, the tosser decided to be a Chaser. Even though he's always been right skinny git."

"Ugh, come on, Harry," Lily said, and Harry followed without complaint. He was drawing a lot of eyes and interest from the other tables now. But Sirius still ambled after them, to a chorus of giggles and high-pitched whispers from Lily's friends.

"Hey, Evans, you forgot your toast!"

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James' hair was still damp when Lily Evans burst into the seventh year boys' dormitories without knocking, looking furious. And Harry, who was apparently a very bright boy for his age, followed her without saying a word.

"Potter!"

The shouting was a tad unnecessary, since James was easily in Lily's line of vision. Still, he lifted his head from packing his school bag and grinned at her. "All right, Evans?"

"Actually, not at all. Your attention-seeking slob of a friend wouldn't leave me alone at breakfast and then _followed_ me here! And he was shouting in his big, stupid voice about Harry and was drawing attention to him. Can you _please_ tell the idiot to back off?" Lily's green eyes were glittering in her angry face, and Harry actually looked afraid of her. James shoved his fist in his mouth for a minute to keep from laughing, before he was brave enough to speak.

"Where's Pad right now? You said he followed you…"

"He's downstairs," Lily replied in a voice calmer than she had thus far. "I wanted to make sure that I could talk to you _alone_."

James was quite sure that she said that like _that_ just to make him crave a cold shower just after getting out of the shower. He tried not to think about it too much. "You hexed him, didn't you." It wasn't a question, and Lily didn't bother to offer excuses, Sirius seemed to have really gotten her going.

"James," there wasn't so much as a flicker in her tone. "You need to talk to him. Dumbledore specifically said _not_ to draw attention to Harry. And the first thing Black decides to do when he sees an eleven year old that _somewhat_ looks like you? He throws a parade in the Great Hall!"

"Oy." James finished tying his shoes and stood up. "I'll talk to him, all right?"

Lily glared at him and crossed her arms, probably upset that he had agreed so quickly and she couldn't continue to yell at him. "Fine, then. Go downstairs and set him straight. I don't care what you tell him, but make him shut it."

"Right…"

He moved to the stairs, and Harry looked between them, wondering who he should stay with. James took pity on him. "C'mon, Harry. Let's go see if Sirius is still alive." He raised his eyebrows at Lily when she didn't move to leave. "And make yourself at home, Evans."

The redhead scoffed at the challenge and sat on top of James' bed. "Don't keep me waiting."

As Harry and James trooped down the stairs together, James shook his head and smirked conspiratorially at Harry. "She is _so_ fit."

Harry made sure his father was looking away before he allowed the expression of disgust to emerge on his face.

A/N: Next, find out what Lily did to Sirius. I promise, he IS still alive. Reviews make me happy :)


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you to everybody who has reviewed! All of the encouragement really helps move this along like you wouldn't believe. So keep it up! And happy reading.

When James and Harry got downstairs, Sirius' wand was laying four feet from him and he was frantically tap-dancing. "Prongs," he said breathlessly. "That bird is _crazy_. Help me out, will you?"

James had half of an urge to let him continue his mambo, but came to the conclusion that he didn't have the time and quickly shot him the countercurse. Sirius stumbled to one side, swearing violently. "Next I see that bloody redhead, I'm going to—"

"Touch her, Padfoot, and I'll have to kill you. You know that." James said breezily. "So what were you doing, mate, that got her so hot?" Honestly, it had been a while since he had seen Lily this mad. It seemed like since the beginning of this year, her irritation with the Marauders was half-feigned, enough that they had something close to an unacknowledged friendship, which (with everyone except Remus) was a step upward even if she still wouldn't go out with him.

"_Nothing!_" Sirius whined. "I just came over to show Moony and Wormtail _him_," he gestured to Harry exhaustedly. "And she went batshit and hexed me! Just for being friendly."

Harry shuffled next to him, and James nodded. "Sure she did, Padfoot. Listen, you need to stop going about and shouting to everyone who will listen about Harry. I'm serious. Dumbledore asked us specifically to keep this down, alright?"

"But why?" Sirius asked, and there was nothing but puzzlement in his voice. "Is there something wrong with him?"

"No," Harry responded, sounding almost indignant.

Sirius lifted a muscled arm towards the boy, pointing. "Well, then what happened to your head there, mate?"

Harry didn't immediately answer and they dropped the discussion for a minute as four third-year girls came down the staircase of their dormitories. With furtive glances at Sirius, they giggled, clearly having witnessed his dancing performance earlier. Sirius snarled at them as they passed. Then he turned his attention to James, sobering up quickly when he saw the glimmer of panic in James' face. "Hey, Prongs, what's going on?"

James tried to mask his expression, but with a burst of clarity, Sirius realized that this wasn't just a wacky situation. He looked at Harry's silent form next to James, a sudden shadow at Lily's side and a stark copy of younger James. He couldn't believe he hadn't seen it sooner. Something was actually very…_odd_ about this. And both of his fellow Gryffindors were jumpy. Very jumpy.

"Nothing, Padfoot. It's what we said," James hedged, messing up his hair nervously. "Look, just…stop talking about Harry to everyone, okay? We promised Dumbledore and Lily will freak if I mess this up. And I've really been trying to…" he let his voice wander off, not feeling the need to elaborate and sacrifice his dignity. Sirius knew how he felt about Lily, and he could stuff it if he didn't think that was a good enough reason.

Sirius crossed his arms over his broad chest, unimpressed with James' story, but somehow managing to look less frightening than a petite Lily had done minutes earlier. "Get a grip, Prongs. For the record, your little ginger love is a pretty terrible liar too. I know you aren't telling me something. So spill it or piss off! I'm your best mate! So who _is_ this kid?"

James nearly laughed, because even he didn't know the answer to that. His best mate could tell that something was off, and yet James was blindly going along with this, not able to tell Sirius anything even if he wanted to. He glanced back at Harry, seeking something from him, perhaps reassurance that he was doing the right thing. But Harry looked back at him and he was still just a kid—a foot and a half shorter than him and skinny with rounded cheeks. His innocence was so apparent. And James couldn't ask it of him.

"Padfoot, I'll tell you what I can later. I swear." He finally turned back to Sirius. "But until then, you keep your big, fat mouth shut, you hear?"

Sirius glared for a prolonged moment, but when James didn't back down, he dropped his arms and sighed. "You've got a deal, Prongs. For now."

James remembered when he and Sirius were first-years and sat down for breakfast on their second day at Hogwarts. Sirius got a Howler from his mother (the first of many), and they both leaned in, examining that smoking, blood-red envelope.

"Better open it now," one of the Prewett boys told Sirius. He was eyeing the correspondence cautiously. "If you don't do it right away, it'll be ten times worse."

James thought that Sirius would rip it open right away after hearing that, but he didn't. Instead, he sat it next to his plate of bacon, smoking curling forth from it with more and more gusto until it finally exploded by itself and Sirius' mother's voice was magnified so loudly that James thought his eardrums would shatter. As his mother cursed him for a blood traitor and accused him of disgracing the Black name for being sorted into Gryffindor, Sirius sat at the table, a smirk plastered on his face as he listened to his unhinged mum go on and on. And that was the moment that James first realized that Sirius Black did _not_ get told what to do. He was defiance personified. And there wasn't going to be any holding him off for long about anything, no matter how nicely James asked.

He was getting that headache again…the same one he had gotten just outside Dumbledore's office, when Evans asked Harry if there was anything else that he could tell them. Something wasn't _clicking_ and it should have been.

He couldn't think when he looked at Harry. He couldn't think when he was with Sirius, and Sirius wanted to _know_. And then Moony and Wormtail would want to know, would ask questions. But James had no answers, and it he couldn't remember the last time he had had to be dishonest with his friends. They had just been through too much.

"You go on ahead," James heard himself say, but the words sounded far away, not within his vicinity. "I left Lily…upstairs. 've gotta go back up and get her."

"Sure mate, whatever." Sirius didn't even make his usual innuendo-laden remark, which meant that he was pissed. But again, that information felt separate, like a limb that had lost its feeling. He would make it up to him later…and Remus, and Peter. James' hand found Harry's shoulder and he was pushing him back up the stairs.

"C'mon…"

The throbbing in his skull had faded by the time he was greeted with the sight of dark red hair spilling over his pillow and a scrunched-up, perfect little nose. He smiled fondly at it for a moment before his mind snapped back on track. "Evans."

She started and her brilliant eyes opened and found him upside-down. There was a faint blush from being found across the bed like that, but she seemed determined not to acknowledge it. "Sorry, got a little dizzy…Sirius?"

"I talked to him and held him off for a little while. Emphasis on 'a little while'." James dropped onto the bed as Lily struggled to her knees. "But listen… we're not going to class."

She immediately sat up, looking aghast. Her eyes ghosted over Harry, standing just in front of them looking a bit worried, before she made eye contact with James again. And that reaction made James even more certain about his decision. "What the bloody hell do you mean, _we're not going to class_?"

A cocktail of impatience, trepidation, confusion, and utmost certainty was swarming around in his head. She demanded that he explain it to her—but then he knew, he _knew _that she was reaching the same conclusions that he was. And he didn't know _why_ or _how_ he knew this. But that quiet kid with his face and Evans' eyes was still standing before them and there was a connection between the three of them that James could sense, but he couldn't make sense _of_. And in that moment, he couldn't explain it to Lily. But he had to get her to go with him.

"Evans, I'm not—can you just trust me for a minute here?" he said. It was the first desperate thought that popped into his head. And she frowned at him.

"Why?" He wasn't expecting that one word to sound so _pained_, but it did and he would rather have her spitting mad at him than hear her like that. Suddenly, the conversation swerved into a dangerous place. He knew what was implicit in that word: why should I trust you when I never have been able to? Why should I trust you when you've never acted your age and bullied people for as long as I've known you? Why should I trust you when I'm a muggleborn and I really can't trust anyone…not even someone who was supposed to be my best friend?

For the thousandth time since the incident, he dearly wished that he had never set upon Snape that day by the lake. He suspected that he (by extension) had caused Lily more hurt that day than he had at any other time.

And though her pain distracted him, he didn't have the time to mull it over. He had to convince her of what he already knew.

"Look, Evans, if you can't trust me, can you at least trust yourself? Because _this makes sense_. You were dizzy, Evans. Why? You feel it too, this thing, whatever it is." James put his hand on the bedspread, centimeters from her own and for a second that was all she could concentrate on. "_Tell me_ that you don't."

She didn't say anything, and through her silence, James had his answer. And he looked over at Harry, watching the scene with something like awe, watching them interact. This entire time, ever since they had met this boy, he had been merely watching them. It was the reason that Lily had asked him "why?" in a moment of lost control. There was a timidity to the first-year that James couldn't ignore, but neither could he ignore this insane, nonsensical desire to get out and get away from the headaches and the questions. By some instinct that James didn't know he possessed, he knew it needed to be just the three of them. So he looked at Harry and he didn't smile. "You're going to talk."

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James' vehemence made him nervous, but Harry didn't allow himself to hesitate his answer. "I can't," he said. "I'm sorry."

The frustration in the air was palpable. And Harry wasn't quite sure how this had so quickly gotten out of control (though he wanted to blame James' loud friend, Sirius or Pawfoot or whatever), or what his parental counterparts were reacting to. He knew how _he _felt, because he already knew who they were. But they didn't know him or understand why they had been appointed responsible for him.

They were just told to do it, and they did. But Harry could figure out by now that James wasn't one to take orders without question or even _with _question, and both of them were too intelligent not to suspect something. Even if the truth was so unbelievable that they couldn't imagine it.

Lily looked from one to the other, clearly at war with herself on whom to support. Harry's presence seemed to be affecting both of them, and he didn't know how to force that to stop…or how to force his parents' classmates from staring, commenting, and mounting their self-doubt. He didn't understand how Dumbledore thought this was going to work.

"This was a mistake," Harry said finally, glumly. He really had no idea why the mirror had dropped him _here_ with his parents. For one thing, they didn't seem to like each other too much. And Harry's existence in their lives right now was nothing but a terrible inconvenience. There was nothing he could gain by being here with them, especially since he couldn't tell him who he was.

"What was a mistake?" Lily quietly asked. Suddenly, Harry was the object of her intense scrutiny. And he realized with a small stab of irrational betrayal that she was taking James' part.

But his teenage father interjected. "Not yet."

He stood up and opened the trunk at the foot of his bed before pulling out something very new and yet, very familiar to Harry, The beat in his chest tripped faster as his father pulled out the Invisibility Cloak and his mother's eyebrows rose at the sight of it.

"Potter?"

"Feel special, Lilykins," he grinned abruptly at her. "I've been waiting for you to become privy to this one."

Harry could tell that Lily did not particularly like the look on James' face. He could see his father gearing up for this, ready to trust her with something that he hadn't before. Maybe get her into a little trouble. And he saw that Lily could read all of this and the chagrin was creeping into her expression.

And despite his growing unease, Harry found himself grinning at her too.

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"Padfoot, you're daft." Remus was bent over his Potions' text as he broke across Sirius' mutterings with his usual matter-of-fact response. Charms had come and gone and there had been no sign of Lily or James. Sirius, of course, had his ideas about what the two of them were getting up to in favor of class. And surprisingly, it didn't involve shagging in a broom closet.

"What's daft about it?" Sirius hissed, swiping the steam out of his face with a careless hand. "Where else could they be?"

"Isn't Jamesie Junior a first-year exchange student?" Peter put in. "Why would the two of them go off and take him to Hogsmeade? Isn't the point that he be here and get familiar with the school?" Just for that, Sirius decided not to tell Peter that he was completely over-mashing his mandrake root.

"The map would show them." Sirius argued. After Charms, he had slipped back to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve the map, and no dot labeled "Evans" or "Potter" ever manifested. "The map never lies. And Evans…I just asked Mary and Marlene, and neither of them know—"

"We know, Pad…" Remus sighed. "But I really doubt that they're together. Lily has been pretty frustrated with his guard-dog routine, if you haven't noticed. But I'm sure that James will tell us where he's gone when he gets back. It's really unlikely that—"

The tall, thin boy dropped off at Sirius's snappish shushing and looked up to see what had caught his attention. Across the way, a pale, black-eyed boy seemed to be examining his Potion, but Remus noticed the way his eyes kept shifting toward them, and his head angled itself just so.

"Hey, Snivellus," Sirius hissed. "You might wanna mind your business before you start minding other people's. You never know when something's going to blow up in your face." Peter let out a murmur of warning when Sirius' wand came out twisting threateningly in the handsome Gryffindor's hand.

Snape did look over then, and his lip curled at the object aimed at him. And he did take the bait. "Black…resorting to unprovoked, mindless violence… I can't tell you how _shocked_ I am."

Black flashed his eyeteeth, eyeing the Slytherin with a hungry look. Remus took a quick check to the front of the room and saw that Slughorn was casting more and more looks their way. "Sirius…"

"I'd be careful, greaseball," Sirius ignored Moony. "You might hear something you don't like."

Peter was grinning now, anticipating what was to come. And though Remus knew that Sirius would never again pull a stunt like the one that almost got Snape killed, he was also well-aware of the fact that Sirius rarely adhered to the expression "look before you leap".

And Sirius didn't disappoint. "Why, look who's missing today…Potter and Evans. Now why do you think that might be? Hmmm…" While he pretended to ruminate over that, Peter snickered and Snape looked absolutely white with fury.

"You're an idiot, Black. Lily would never—"

"Gentleman, is there a problem?" Slughorn called from the front of the room. Their eyes all shot back to the front and Sirius pocketed his wand. After a disgruntled chorus of "no, sir", Slughorn turned back to his desk and Sirius turned back to Snape, ripping away from Remus' hand touching on his robe. Unfortunately, Slughorn's question had attracted the attention of both Nott and Mulciber, sitting in front of Snape. And they were now leaning over to listen, most likely hopeful that a fight would break out or that they would have opportunity to begin one.

"Oh, so it's Lily still?" Sirius was glaring outright, though his voice had dropped lower. "That's not what you were calling her last year, was it? You slimy son-of-a-bitch."

"Don't talk about things you don't understand, Black. Which is most everything," Snape returned coldly, though he was now flushing.

"I know what you called her. And I saw you almost tearing your ear off to hear what I was saying about where Evans had gone with my best mate."

"Your best mate is a pathetic, sniveling blood traitor," Nott chimed before Snape could.

"And you lot are sad, Death Eater-wannabees," Peter shot back.

"What is going on back there?" Slughorn asked again, this time he was more than suspicious and would shortly be heading this way. Remus rolled his eyes. This wasn't going to end well, but then recently, nothing really ever did.

"Prove it, Pettigrew," Snape sneered. "Funny how this all started because the Gryffindors have such a bloated ego that they assume everybody is trying to hear what they have to say."

"More like you're desperate to make sure that Evans isn't shagging James. That's what you're really afraid of, isn't it, Snivellus?"

There was one solitary beat of silence before an answer came. And it wasn't from Snape. "Why," Mulciber asked, "would any Slytherin be _jealous_ or surprised that Potter is taking up with that filthy, overrated, little slag of a _Mudblood_?"

The last was said loudly that several of the other Gryffindors whipped around in outrage, Slytherins in interest, but no one was too surprised when Sirius took the bait with an indignant roar, and Remus took a deep, calming breath as three cauldrons of half-concocted potions exploded and drenched the Slytherin end of the room. With many impatient grumblings about "language" and "violence", Slughorn started passing out detentions like they were Chocolate Frogs.

And nobody noticed how Snape's expression had contorted to something like agony. Or the way his hands shook when he received his punishment.

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"Potter, you don't _have_ to keep touching my back and shoving me. I can see perfectly well where we're going. We're walking in a straight line!"

"Just ignore me like you usually do, Evans. I can enjoy myself just fine without your input. And my hands aren't hurting you."

"Well, your big feet are. I swear, I'll be bleeding by the time you get me to whatever _illegal_ place you're taking us to."

Harry groaned, but his parents were too involved in their argument to pay much notice. They had been going at it ever since they had realized how little space they would be afforded with three people (two nearly adults) huddled under the cloak together. James was taking every opportunity afforded to him to touch Lily, and Lily had no qualms about making her displeasure known, but hadn't yet done anything too violent to prevent it.

There was a certain level of dark humor in the idea that though he had come through time and a mirror to meet his parents, they were far too absorbed in the friction of their relationship to pay him much attention.

Maybe if he continued to let them carry on like they currently were, they would forget all about Harry and he could slip away and find the mirror for himself.

But somehow, Harry could not bring himself to do that. Instead, he continued down the passageway his father had directed, wondering where it would lead him.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Next part here! I hope you enjoy, as this is where things start to get dicey. Happy reading!

Chapter 6:

Lily was relieved when she saw a golden light filtering ahead of them. They had been walking long enough now that she sincerely doubted that they were still on Hogwart's grounds. "So this is where you sneak around to?" she whispered to James as they kept on walking. He snickered, but didn't refute the conclusion she had come to. Lily imagined that this wasn't the _only_ secret passageway that the Marauders discovered and utilized.

"Are you okay, Harry?" The young boy hadn't spoken since they had been ensconced in James' Invisibility Cloak together, and his silence was unnerving to her.

"I'm fine," he responded lightly.

But Lily still felt a pang of guilt. She knew that she and James had a tendency to get a little absorbed in their own action when they were arguing. It was a subject of mockery for both of their sets of friends, especially when Lily protested that she was nothing but completely indifferent to Potter. But she couldn't seem to make it stop. Her focus was entirely out of her control when James was around. He demanded her attention and she instinctively reacted to that by giving it to him—negatively, but it didn't change the fact that everything else fell into the backdrop.

There was a desire—one to ensure that she didn't ignore Harry. The reason for this compulsion was utterly lost on her, but so were the other strange emotions and physical reactions to Harry's presence that were weighing on her and on James…

It turned out that the golden light was Honeyduke's Sweetshop. And Harry actually gasped as he encountered the explosion of confections and other bright, colorful, edible things. Lily had forgotten that first-years (if Harry really was one) weren't able to go into Hogsmeade. James prodded them over to an empty aisle and pulled the cloak off of them, wrapping it up and tucking it back into his robes. No one was the wiser.

Harry was still turning about the store, his jaw fairly scraping the floor, and Lily and James couldn't help but exchange smiles at his childish excitement.

"Do you want anything?" they asked simultaneously, and Harry looked shocked at both their question and their synchronicity.

"Well, I…" he flushed a little and something about that troubled her. It was almost like he wasn't used to being offered things, like the very question made him terribly uncomfortable. Again, she remembered how he had phrased the only reference to his origins: _I was raised by Muggles…_

James, of course also sensing his unease, jumped right in. He shunted Harry around the shop, pulling random candy off the shelves and running a pitch for each like a used-car salesman. "Nah, little bloke…don't try the Acid Pops. Here, have a cockroach cluster. If for nothing else but to disgust Evans."

Rolling her eyes, Lily pulled a box of chocolate-covered insects off the shelf too, and handed tossed them to James. "Here, big guy. You're buying."

With a smirk at her cheek, James went to the counter to purchase their loot, and Lily was left alone with Harry, who still looked mildly embarrassed at the small fuss. "Harry, you know before you said that you were…raised by Muggles. I just…it made me wonder…"

The dark-haired boy swallowed audibly, but Lily pressed on, feeling that she needed to know this. "Do you live with your parents…or are they…?" She was hoping he would fill in the blanks, since she didn't know what she had planned to say at the end of that sentence.

"It's quite a long story," Harry finally answered her. The silence in between was agonizing and she felt her sympathy for him compounding as they stood there, and again there was the frustrating downside of not knowing _why_ she was feeling that. Whatever was going on with him and this mirror couldn't be his fault. There was no sense of maliciousness or manipulation or even stupidity from him. But James was making his way over before she could interrogate him any further.

"Here, love. Tuck in." He passed her the cockroach clusters and gave Harry his own little bag. "Now we're off."

He moved towards the entrance, but Lily planted her feet and waited until James realized that she wasn't following. "And where exactly are we off to?"

"Awww, Evans," James whined, coming back over to tug at her arm. "Don't be prickly and just come _on_! Do you think I would take you anywhere questionable when the little bloke is with us?"

"Potter, just tell me where we're going."

"But if I do that, you might run off," he admitted and she dug her feet in again.

"Potter. _Where_ are we going?!"

"Just trust me on this, Evans." At her unconvinced expression, he turned for support. "Harry does, look." He winked at the boy, who shrugged and nodded.

"Sure."

And Lily made a concession for the boy's acquiescence, nothing else. However, all of her misgivings came roaring back when she realized where they were headed. "Oh, no, no, no, no, no _way_, Potter! Are you _mad_?"

The rickety, darkened house was just in sight and James gave her a small smile, not-so-properly chastened by her angry exclamation. "Lily, we aren't going _inside_, alright? Just…you know, sitting on the porch or something. Relax."

Her eyes bugged out twice as big as they normally were, and though it wasn't a particularly attractive look, James still found himself marveling at the green of them. "The _porch_?! James Potter, you need your head _examined_ if you think I am going within thirty feet of that haunted death trap." James started advancing on her, grinning and she took a few steps backward, slightly frightened of the look in his eye. "Oh, come _on_, Potter! Don't tell me that you haven't heard the bloody noises around here. Ask anyone in Hogsmeade!"

"Don't tell me you're scared, Evans." He closed in like a predator, belying his soothing words. "I won't let anything get to you…"

"_I_ won't be letting anything get to me because I'm not going _over_ there!"

"Never say never," James scolded before leaping over to her and throwing her over his shoulder in one, smooth motion borne of his excellent, Quidditch-honed reflexes. Lily screamed as she was hoisted into the air.

"Potter, I've never been more serious in my life, let me GO." She slapped his back angrily and he tsk-tsked her before glancing back at their young spectator.

"Well, c'mon then, Harry… we're wasting daylight."

Positioned as she was, Lily couldn't get to her wand, so she settled for beating relentlessly on James' back, who paid absolutely no notice to her assault. "Potter, put me down, you bleeding tosser! I'm going to _murder you_!"

"Evans, don't yell about killing people so loudly. People are going to get the wrong idea."

"Oh right, but carrying off a screaming woman is going to give people the right idea? James, I swear if you move past the gate of that property, it will be the last thing you do in your stupid life!"

"At least I'll get to go while gazing into the beautiful, murderous eyes of the girl I've fancied for years," he replied, jostling to keep her from slipping to one side. "Or a mean ol' ghostie." She aimed a particularly vicious kick to a sensitive area and he narrowly avoided it. "Hey! Watch the family jewels, Evans!"

"You're not going to need reproductive organs where you're going, Potter." The struggle was leaving her slightly out-of-breath. "Don't worry."

After a moment, she renewed her struggles, sensing that they were very close to the property. This time, James sobered, having as much difficulty keeping a hold of her as he would have a scalded cat. "Okay, okay Evans…can I tell you something?"

She paused and glanced behind him at Harry, who had been following them the entire time, and looked nonplussed at the conversation, but didn't make a comment on it. "Fine, Potter. What?"

"I solemnly swear that the Shrieking Shack is NOT haunted."

To that, she flounced once like a fish on dry land and whacked him again on the back, letting him know exactly what she thought of his "word".

"You have got to do better than that, Potter."

This time, he gently set her down, seriously enough that her expression lost some of its heated anger. And he looked down at her as she looked up, and he leaned in as if imparting a secret to her. "Evans… I've been in the Shrieking Shack before, okay? It's not haunted." She looked about to object, but he raised a hand to stem her protests. "I know exactly the reason why people hear noises sometimes, but I can promise you that nothing will happen to us for sitting outside of it. And if we're here, then nobody will happen by because everybody's already bloody terrified of it. It's perfect."

"Brilliant," Lily said unenthusiastically. She raised an eyebrow at him. "And you know it isn't haunted how? And you've been inside how? It's all blocked off, Potter." She gestured sharply to the dilapidated house, all shuttered up without a single opening to infiltrate.

"Evans, that's kinda like my Invisibility Cloak. Need-to-know."

"Well then I need-to-know," she emphasized her point by poking him in the chest, and he snatched her hand before she could pull away, squeezing it once.

"No, you don't." His hazel eyes were dark with warning and she decided to let the issue die. She may have been eternally fed-up with James' bullying ways and his showboating, but there was no question that he possessed an incredible sense of nobility and courage. He was the best of Gryffindor as much as he could sometimes be the worst. She got the feeling that he was protecting someone. And James was an uncompromising friend.

"Alright, James." She tugged once, and he released her caught hand, smiling for a second at her, because she had backed off.

This was the first time that she had ever realized that there was a difference between a _grinning _James Potter and a _smiling_ James Potter. He grinned when he made her mad, or when he was amused by something stupid, or Sirius had just done something that only Sirius would do.

But he smiled—genuinely, full-on smiled sometimes when he looked at her. She caught it this time, and everything about him was so _nice_ in that instant, that she couldn't help but put a hand on his chest, right over his beating heart, patting it gently. And she laughed a little when it tapped a more frantic rhythm underneath her fingers.

"Alright, Evans," he said, and he was still smiling.

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"It seems that Black decided to celebrate the absence of his partner-in-crime today in the dungeons by setting off an explosion of three Slytherin cauldrons." Professor McGonagall came straight to Dumbledore's office over lunch to report the most recent developments, namely the disappearance of Lily Evans and James Potter. Rumors as ludicrous as elopement or James finally went mad and kidnapped the woman he loved (McGonagall made no attempt to disguise rolling her eyes when she heard that one) were running rampant.

"And you always say, Minerva, Mr. Black and Mr. Potter are diabolic when together." Dumbledore inclined his head. "But I've always gotten the sense that they are far more troublesome apart. Lack of stimulation can lead to disastrous consequences."

McGonagall's lips pressed together as she watched Dumbledore serenely stir his tea while examining some letter from the new Head of the Department of Magical Education. "I don't understand it, Albus. Aren't you at all concerned that Potter and Evans have absconded with the boy?"

"Their son?" Dumbledore responded, not removing his eyes from the letter. "My dear Minerva, I'll admit that I would have preferred that Harry keep his identity away from Mr. Potter and Ms. Evans. However," he did look up then. "I will also confess that I expected that this might happen."

"Well, _naturally_, but that doesn't mean it cannot be prevented." McGonagall sniffed. "If we just allowed the students to do whatever—"

"But this isn't a matter for the school, Minerva. And can the boy really learn anything if Lily and James are not aware that they are his parents?"

McGonagall finally took a seat and crossed her arms, surveying Dumbledore's desk without interest. "I suppose that depends on what he is here to learn." Her gaze turned more inquisitive. "And that is still relying on the supposition that the boy really is their son from a future time, which I have my reservations about."

Dumbledore sighed, unruffled by her doubts, but set his letter down to give her his full attention.

"I do not know the origins of the Mirror of Erised, but I do believe that we have only scratched the surface of its rather astonishing qualities, as my dear friend pointed out to me only months ago."

The corners of McGonagall's lips just barely turned up. "And does Mairead know the…ah, the entire story?"

"She certainly does," Dumbledore said with a pleasant smile. "I'm under no impression that she believes everything that I tell her, but I daresay that I entertain her enough that she has put up with my odd little turns." He inclined his head graciously to the other person in the room, as she did much the same. "But one thing that Mairead did mention to me is that the object has no trace of Dark Magic upon it, which I had already guessed at. But a symptom of a pure object is that it will tend to honor individuals with a similar purity. Something within the deepest recesses of the heart."

After his words, the room fell into a pensive silence as McGonagall lingered over that thought. The contemplation of war—that her own students would have _children_ who would experience the effects of it in some form or another. And there were heroes who walked these very halls right now, who had no care beyond passing their OWLs or getting the last piece of homework in. But she thought mostly of an orphaned eleven-year old boy, one she might meet some fifteen years from now, whose simple appearance would be one that would trigger memories for her of two students that had gone before him. Ones with startling green eyes, unkempt dark hair, bravery, and good hearts underneath everything.

"You seem to set store by the boy," she said quietly.

Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Yes, I may be, Minerva… I may be… but my instinct is that he might be someone quite extraordinary. And with some good fortune, his very existence might prove to be what we need to rid the world of Lord Voldemort."

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Lily slipped off her robe and sat it on the ground so she wouldn't muss the rest of her clothes. In only her uniform, skirt just the slightest bit provocative and blouse untucked, her hair in a messy half-ponytail, she didn't look like she could be anyone's mother. James slipped down next to her with dangerous grace and patted the grass in front of him, but Harry continued to stand.

"Pull up a chair, little bloke."

After a momentary pause, Harry grudgingly sat down too, looking from one to the other and playing nervously with his hands. "What do you wanna know?" he finally asked, compulsively dropping his gaze from them.

"We're sorry to put you on the spot like this." Lily began, wishing that he would look at her as he said this. "We just…we're very confused and if you would just give us something to go off of, maybe we could make sense of it, you know?"

Harry's response was merely a shrug. Exchanging glances, Lily and James waited him out in unspoken agreement, wanting him to lead them. But after a few long, awkward minutes, Lily reached out a put her hand over Harry's, stilling his anxious fiddling and prompting him to look up at her.

"Harry, we—" but the rest died in her throat as she read his expression. In it was infinite, intense sadness, like he was about to burst into tears at any moment. But when she stopped speaking, he understood what she had seen in him and swallowed twice, trying to force all of it back down.

Without any notion of what she was doing, Lily's arms came around Harry's thin shoulders and she hugged him tightly. It occurred automatically, a desperate urge to give this boy comfort. Why was he so sad and so quiet?

"I'm sorry," she muttered emotionally, apologizing for everything that she could imagine had happened to make him look like that, and the things she couldn't. "Please don't look like that."

At first he accepted her embrace without moving, but after a moment, she felt the slight pressure of his hands, tentative on her back and then firm and trusting. She didn't look back over at James or even wonder at what he could be thinking at this sudden burst of weirdness, but she didn't care. She had this irrepressible desire to make things _better_ for Harry, though she knew nothing about him or his life. She just wanted it to be…better. And the desire caught in her throat, nearly making her tear up.

Harry pulled away eventually, shaking his young head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset…"

"You haven't upset us," James said. He gave him a little grin, trying to relax some of the energy that was filling the space between them. "We're just feelin' a bit out of our element, if you know what I mean. And maybe you could help us out."

Harry nodded, the set of his lips slightly apologetic. "This was an accident. I didn't mean…" he blinked at both of them, as if he was trying to figure something out. "I didn't mean to use the mirror like I did."

"Right, the mirror," James said. He pushed his glasses further up his nose and eyed Harry intently. Now they may have been getting somewhere. "Explain the mirror to us." He glanced sideways at Lily as she shifted a little further back, relaxing her posture. "Alright, Lily?"

"Yeah," she shook her head, and James put a hand on her shoulder with concern. "Just woozy for a moment. Don't bother about me." She shifted back into her original position to accentuate her words and fixed Harry with a business-like look. "So, the mirror," she prompted.

"Okay," Harry said. "One night at school, I found it in an empty classroom. I wasn't supposed to be there. It's kind of a..." he paused, reluctant to go on, but James and Lily waited and would have kept waiting until he spoke. He sighed. "It's special. It doesn't show you your reflection or anything like that."

"What does it show you?"

"Dumbledore said that a man who had everything would look into the mirror and see himself, just as he was." Harry ducked his head a moment, sheepish. "He caught me at the mirror one night. Told me not to go looking for it again."

"So, I'm a little lost," Lily interrupted, her brow furrowed. "The mirror shows you everything you don't have…what you want?"

"It shows us…" Harry clearly didn't want to continue, which meant that he was going to reveal something very telling. They waited, breathing hitched in anticipation. "It shows us our heart's desire. The one thing we want most in the world."

"Which is why you kept going back." James guessed. A wind kept tugging his glasses down his nose, he and Harry both pushed their respective spectacles up at the same time, and they grinned at each other, sharing something. Lily breathed a laugh and James was caught staring again as he watched the wind dance in her unruly hair. She pushed at his jaw, forcing him to face away from her.

"Focus, Potter," she said teasingly.

James smirked, but obeyed and the brief moment of camaraderie faded. "My apologies. Go on, Harry."

"Well, what else do you want to know?" Harry said, trying to buy himself more time.

"What happened next?" Lily asked patiently, the vestiges of her sympathy for the boy still hiding in the back of her mind.

"Well…this is where it gets a little hazy," Harry admitted. "I was still staring at the mirror. Dumbledore had already gone, and I was standing in front of it…" He looked down at his hands, lost in memory. "I don't know why I didn't listen to him…but I put my hands on the glass." He balled them, his hands, clenching and unclenching like a frustrated little boy. "I wanted it so badly, though." His voice nearly a whisper in the wind, James and Lily scooted a little closer.

"What did you want?" Lily said softly. "What did you see in the mirror?"

His expression cleared, and his hands flattened on his thighs, banishing the moment with the mirror. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters. It's why you're here, isn't it?" James exclaimed. Harry couldn't argue with that. "You have to tell us what you saw."

"I don't think Professor Dumbledore would want me to—"

"Harry, I'm all about obeying those in authority usually," James said. Lily snorted, and even Harry had to raise an eyebrow. "But, I'm not about to go about school with these headaches and thoughts and bleeding feelings that get so…so much that I can't even think straight! And neither is she." He jerked his head at the girl next to him, and she had to nod her head in commiseration. She didn't want to cause Harry pain, but she really believed that he might feel better if he just _told_ them how he had gotten here.

"We've got to figure this out. So you have to tell us," he glowered at Harry slightly, demanding the truth, "what you saw in that mirror."

"Please, Harry," Lily added.

There was a long stretch of nothing after that. And they watched as Harry drew up his knees and clasped his arms around him, huddled there. He was again denying them eye contact. Finally, he dropped his forehead down and mumbled something, one word, into his knees.

"What?" they said in unison. James was beginning to grow impatient.

"Come on, little bloke. Tell us what you saw. We're not leaving here until you do."

Harry exhaled long and hard, defeated. But finally, he raised his head from his legs and looked at them. "Fine…I'll tell you. But you can't let it…affect anything. You can't let it change anything."

"What do you mean?" James said, not calm enough to bother to work out a puzzle right now. And Lily was inclined to agree. "Just tell us already. I swear, we'll be fine once you tell us, okay? Nothing is going to change."

"Harry," Lily said, trying to keep her voice gentle. "You're safe with us. You can tell us."

"You."

James nodded. "Yeah, us. You're safe with us."

Harry shook his head, his face looking a little pale. "No, I meant what I saw in the mirror. It was you."

A/N: Before you shoot me for that, review and let me know what you think. I'll get the next part up faster, if I can. Happy Cliffhanger Saturday.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I was going to post this tomorrow morning, but I thought it would be cruel to keep those of you who are reading waiting. Thank you to everyone who reviewed: a few anonymous and guest reviewers, **EriksAngeldeMusica**, **Shelby Hermione Malfoy**, mystery reader, **LunaNotLoony**, **ameliedavid**, **katiek121**, and **Triptic Writer**. Thank you so much for the feedback! It is appreciated so so much! Please let me know if you like this. Reveal chapters are always very interesting to take on. Happy reading!

By the time lunch came around, Sirius, Remus, and Peter made a dash for the Common Room (the latter two were now becoming a bit curious under Sirius' constant stream of speculation over James' whereabouts). Opening James' trunk, the Invisibility Cloak was nowhere to be found.

"Ha!" Sirius said smugly. His look was mostly reserved for Remus, who had sworn up and down that he didn't think that James had gone anywhere off of the grounds. "The Cloak is gone. How do you explain _that_, Moony?"

Remus' brow did furrow at the newest information, but he still was not convinced that Sirius' claims were anything more than paranoia. Peter looked doubtful as well.

"Prongs takes his cloak out for a lot of reasons, not just to sneak off to Hogsmeade," the short, watery-eyed boy said carefully. He wasn't exactly aching for a row with Sirius, but this whole thing was like a bone for Padfoot. He'd growl and snap if anyone tried to take it from him. It was best not to provoke him.

"But then why are neither of them _on the map_?!" Sirius again shoved the parchment in their faces. And the two other boys had no way to explain that away. "See? I think that they went off with the little first-year and played themselves some hooky."

Remus flopped onto his bed, shaking his head. "But Padfoot, _why_? What would be the purpose of going off to Hogsmeade with some little exchange student?"

Sirius snorted. "Of course you believed that story."

"Well, why not?"

"Moony!" Sirius' tone was aghast, almost chastising. "And you call yourself a Marauder?! And you ate that ridiculous story up hook, line, and sinker?"

"Hook, line, sinker… Is that a muggle expression?" Peter asked, but they paid him no heed. Remus shrugged.

"Didn't you say that James told you that _Dumbledore_ was the one that assigned Harry to them? Would they really start throwing around Dumbledore's name if he really had nothing to do with it? Seriously, Sirius?"

"You're hilarious, Moony," Sirius rolled his eyes. "Let's stay on track, shall we? I mean, first of all, who of us is going to be chatting with Dumbledore? They could have easily just mentioned him to give the whole thing a little authority. Or…Dumbledore is in on it!"

Peter frowned and Remus' expression remained blank. "Dumbledore is in on what, Sirius? You still haven't even told us what you're accusing Prongs and Lily of doing…while in the company of a first-year, I might add."

"That's because I don't know," Sirius said simply, shaking his head. "But I do know my best mate. And I know something really bizarre is going on around here."

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The word…_you_… it left Harry's mouth and swirled between them, slithering around James and Lily, the syllable uncomprehending and damning all at once. They stared at his white face, barely emotive in its timidity, the incredible shyness and pain in his eyes. Lily didn't want to be the first to speak. She didn't want to ask him what he meant. As much as she knew with everything in her that the boy was telling the truth, she didn't think she was prepared to believe him.

"Me?" James' voice was rough, unused to speaking without a reply already set on his lips. Lily could tell that he was just as blindsided as she, though they hadn't really been expecting any kind of normal explanation. His head turned a fraction toward Lily, but didn't tear his eyes away from Harry. "_Us_?"

Harry nodded slowly, but didn't offer any explanation. And Lily didn't want to ask, but she felt as if she would burst if she went another moment not knowing what this boy knew.

"Why?" she asked, and immediately, she thought of the boy's sadness when he looked at her, of putting her arms around him and wanting to cry. _This is mad_, she thought, her eyes wandering up and sky was swimming before her eyes, the clouds and the blueness moving just like everything else in the world. And Harry was just sitting there, not fading or disappearing, not moving. What was he? Who was he?

"Why?" she asked again, more loudly this time.

"I shouldn't tell you," Harry resisted, spurred on by her determination. He stood up, suddenly restless and angry and he paced in front of them. Lily glanced uneasily at James, whose eyes followed Harry as he moved, but he couldn't seem to conjure any words. "Just like I shouldn't have touched the mirror. I keep screwing up! I keep making everything a mess and I just need to get back, alright?"

"Alright," Lily said, grabbing his sleeve as he stalked by her and keeping her grip firm so he couldn't pull away. She shook his arm lightly, trying to smile, to soothe him. "Alright, Harry. But you still have to tell us why you saw…James and I" she swallowed around referring to them in union like that, "in the mirror."

"Can't you figure it out?" he asked, frustration overriding everything else in his voice. Lily released him, her fingers suddenly seeming boneless.

In truth, she could have guessed the answer after they confronted him outside of Dumbledore's office this morning. But she wouldn't dare, too afraid of being wrong _and_ right. Frightened of the implications and the impossibility. And James. And her 'son'. "I need you to say it," Lily finally answered, her voice trembling.

Harry turned to James. "What about you?"

"Just say it, little bloke." There was no inflection in his voice, but he hadn't looked away or even blinked since Harry told them what he saw in the mirror. "The truth."

"You're my parents," he said it quickly, like jumping into the pool for the first time in summer, immersing himself in the chill before the water begins to feel warm. And his voice got stronger for it. "That's why I saw you in the mirror, because you're my mum and dad."

They were speechless.

And it seemed that once Harry made the confession, he couldn't stop. "I know that sounds mad to you. But I'm not from this time…obviously. And I—I'm not sure how I landed _here_, where neither of you know me and…" he gestured helplessly at them. "You're not dating or even friends, I think. Or maybe you are…"

"You're saying that you're our son," James said incredulously.

"No…" Lily muttered. But it was soft enough that it didn't reach the ears of her future-son and…future-boyfriend, lover, husband, or whatever the bloody hell he was or would become.

"Yeah…you're Lily and James Potter," Harry said weakly. "Everybody in our world knows who you are…who _I_ am…"

"No…"

"You're _our_ son…mine and Lily's."

The redheaded girl shook her head. "_No._" Both boys turned to look at her as she got to her feet, and consequentially, James got to his. She was looking pleadingly at Harry. "Don't tell me this. You _can't_ be our son."

Harry looked at her, his mouth dropping open just slightly on his exhale. Yes, he was hurt by her request, but the alternative…the alternative was much worse.

And Harry wasn't going to say that it wasn't true. And Lily needed to get away…away from _both _of them. James' hand clamped around her wrist, but he still didn't look at her, too charged to be patient with her. "Evans, _look at him_."

He didn't get it. "I _see _him!" Lily yelled, shocking them both. She tried to yank away, but still, James held fast to her. "I see his face, his sodding glasses—"

"His eyes." James voice was beginning to increase in volume and harshness too.

"_Yes_. His eyes, I see them. I see…" She gave an almighty tug, but James still wasn't releasing her. She wanted him to grasp what she was realizing, but he wouldn't let her _go_ and he wouldn't let her speak. She sounded furious even to her own ears. "Now ask him _why_ he was seeing us in the mirror, James. Ask him why."

And that was when James stilled, the root of Lily's distress finally dawning on him. Why would an eleven-year old boy look in a mirror that shows his heart's desire, and see nothing more than his parents standing behind him? How simple. How strange, unless…

"Why?" James said, his hand still gripping Lily's wrist as if it was the only thing that would save him from drowning in this sea of unbelievable disquiet. And she didn't struggle as they waited for Harry's next horrible reveal. "Why would all that you see in a mirror like that…be your mum and dad?"

Harry nodded to them and his eyes flickered to the ground, accepting the question and preparing himself to deliver the answer. It didn't matter what Dumbledore or he himself wanted now. Everything was going to come out. He whispered the words, and yet the wind stopped and place around them suddenly silenced, as if aware of what Harry was going to say, knowing that if it didn't stop, Lily and James wouldn't hear him say it.

"You're dead."

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Snape poked at his lunch with his knife, the mere sight of it making him nauseous. He couldn't stop the obsessive stream of bitter, maddening thoughts that overtook everything else in his mind. _Black is just a jumped-up, lying prick. Lily wouldn't have gone off with Potter, of all people. She wouldn't –she wouldn't do anything with him. She hated him. She did hate him, didn't she? She said that he made her sick last year…last year…_

Last year made _him_ sick. But last year had happened and Lily would never forgive him. And he had learned to live with that, as well as he possibly could. But she had said that, too. That Potter made her sick. And that was still true, wasn't it?

_Fuck them all_. Snape dropped his knife and looked away from his food. He didn't even know what was on his plate. His gaze shot over to the Gryffindor table, but there was no sign of Lily or _any_ of the Marauders now.

"Hey, Snape." Mulciber called his attention, the way he smiled suggesting that he had been staring at Snape's misery for a while. "You're not still sulking over the Mudblood, are you?"

Snape managed an indifferent snort, though he didn't know how convincing it sounded. "Of course not. I wasn't 'sulking' to begin with." God, he really hated Mulciber sometimes.

"Good," Mulciber responded, reaching for a biscuit. "Because we all knew that Potter was going to take his roll in the dirt with the little Mudblood once she agreed to it. And we all knew that she would eventually. The only shame in it is that Potter has sealed his fate completely as a blood traitor, taking up with the slag."

_Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm, stay calm…_ Snape repeated it in his head like a mantra. _Show them nothing. She means nothing to you. Don't show them that you feel it._

Avery laughed. "As if there was any chance he wouldn't." He pitched his voice higher, mocking James. "Oh please Evans! Just go out with me, please! I want nothing more than to lick the dirt off your boots, snog, and have you bear my filthy half-bloods. Please, Evans!" Everyone at the table snickered and Mulciber shook his head.

"That idiot doesn't have a bleeding ounce of self-respect. Following her around and trying to _protect _her from the evil, nasty, self-respecting purebloods, having the nerve to take up with the bitch and duel us. The loyal watchdog to a Mudblood. Pathetic."

As a well-oiled method of self-preservation, Snape tuned them out, glancing again to the red and gold table. Lily's friends were there…but no Lily, no Potter, Black, Lupin, or pitiful Pettigrew. Where the hell were they?

Snape really hadn't heard what Black was freaking out over in Potions, other than that it involved Evans and Potter. But he did remember Lily coming into the Great Hall this morning with a quiet boy that looked enough like Potter that Snape's stomach actually lurched at the sight of him. And after a few minutes, Lily had stormed out again, taking the kid by the arm and Black following after them, yelling something idiotic, as usual. The whole scene was bizarre.

He didn't care, though. He looked around at his friends, positively gleeful as they went on about Potter and his deluded love for someone who wasn't worthy of his blood, how the whole lot of Gryffindors were nothing but Mudbloods and blood traitors, just waiting to die for their sad, misguided beliefs once the Dark Lord was finished with them. And Snape didn't care.

He didn't.

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Lily's eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she insistently tugged at her arm again, jolting the hand attached to it. She didn't want to stand here and listen to this, not now. James' grip was iron.

"_Stay_ here," he said, his voice like ice, a tone she had never heard from him. He was staring and staring at Harry, trying to glean something from the boy's mournful eyes. "What do you mean 'we're dead'? How?! How do we die?"

"I'm not…" the boy's words faltered as he saw their alarmed, distraught faces. "I can't—"

"_No_!" James shot back, not bothering to compose himself. "Why would you say that? You can't just say something like that and expect—"

"Stop it!" Lily hissed, keeping her voice low so it would remain steady. "He can't help it, James. Relax…"

Now, James looked at her, his eyes hot and ready to boil over. "This kid just told you that you'd be dead before he turns eleven and you'd leave him an orphan. You and me. Dead. You want to believe that?"

"Of course I don't want to believe that! But I doubt it's really easy for him to talk about how his parents died!" He finally released her wrist and she pulled it viciously away, not getting as much satisfaction from the freedom as she thought she'd get. "You're the one that wanted to go off and hear what he had to say. And now you're gonna stand there and yell at him because you don't like what you hear?"

"And you do?!" James roared.

"No!" Lily yelled right back. "I'm just trying to make sense of it!"

"Well, here's your sense," James snapped. "Harry apparently fell from the sky into a past time because he looked the Mirror of Whatever-the-Hell and it showed him the image of his dead parents, His dead parents being you and me, two people who he wanted to see so badly that he literally fell through time and space to do it! Now I want to figure out why _I _died before my son grew up and I bloody well am going to get an answer!"

"Fine!" Lily bellowed, breathless and heart pounding.

Neither of them could quite figure out how this stand-off had escalated so quickly, but they continued to stare dangerously at each other, wolves ready to circle. And they remained that way until James turned his head to look at Harry, like the snap of a whip, and Lily felt the cold remoteness that gesture was supposed to convey to her. Suddenly, she missed the screaming.

"What happened to us?" he said on an exhale, sounding calmer for the moment. He rubbed his hand through his hair and took another deep breath. Harry watched the motion of James' hand, his mouth fading to a grim line.

"Someone named…Voldemort. Lord Voldemort? He killed you." Harry sounded half-uncertain. "Sorry, I was a baby when it happened, so I don't remember it. And I was only just told the truth this year. I hadn't known…before, I thought you died in a car crash."

"Car crash?" James' voice was hollow. "Before?"

"Before I found out about everything…you know, being a wizard."

Lily's thoughts were stagnant at 'Lord Voldemort'. A brutal chill ran up her spine at the name and the ground felt as if it was coming apart at her feet. So Voldemort would kill her. She imagined that Slytherins who assaulted her in the hallways would be pleased to hear that. This war that she knew was looming…in just one moment, it became more terrible and more real than she could have ever thought. The very idea that she would die…die because her parents were muggles. Nice, normal non-magic people who loved her just as much as anybody with wizards for parents. As much as she would love her own children, if and when she had them. She blinked away the burning in her eyes to look at Harry, who had turned his attention more to her, as if fearful of her reaction. She had been dealing with what he was saying more quietly than James, thus far.

She chased a lock of wayward hair behind her ear and tried to push away those thoughts. She needed to think. She needed to somehow break this down and _know_ what happened.

It was the first clear thought about Harry that struck her. "Harry…" If she could focus on him, she could keep all of the other horrible things at bay. "How did _you_ survive…if neither of us did?" She pointed with a shaking finger between herself and James, who looked almost offended at the gesture. She knew how he felt; talking about their potential or possible demise was almost so strange that it was all they could do to discuss it like someone might discuss the weather. She kept pushing it down, not knowing what else to do with it. Focus on Harry.

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Looking at them now, the lump in Harry's throat was nearly insurmountable. He turned away, looking at the abandoned, creaky house behind them—suddenly less frightening than it had originally appeared. He didn't want to cry. And if he did cry, he didn't want them to see it.

Hagrid's words, over and over.

…_something about you stumped him that night_.

"I don't know…" he finally said. "Nobody knows. He tried to kill me, but he couldn't." The wind was so fierce around them that the Shrieking Shack looked as if it might fall over. But no matter how hard it was buffeted, it stayed standing. "It's how I got the scar on my forehead."

James took a step towards him, but then stopped and his hands hung awkwardly at his sides. "So you lived. And we didn't."

Harry spun around, blinking his eyes quickly. And Lily wished that she could tell him that he didn't have to be so brave. But Harry nodded and the moisture in his eyes made them gleam. And Lily was struck with the way Harry was looking at them. In that moment in time, they weren't Gryffindor sixth-years. They weren't Lily Evans and James Potter. They were Lily and James Potter, his mother and father.

And he spoke, his voice wet and fervent. "I really wish you had."

A/N: Here's to hoping you guys don't hate me too much anymore! Be sure to review if you can!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Another one. Thank you to **katiek121**, **Sailor Saturn fan**, **lilaex13**, **LunaNotLoony**, **MSupernatural**, **Weirdawesomechick**, **Lionessof the East**, and **EriksAngeldeMusica** for reviewing! You guys are the best and your comments, encouragement, compliments, and constructive criticism is appreciated to the nth power! Hope you enjoy. Keep letting me know!

Disclaimer: (Yeah, I should have done this 8 chapters ago...) I own absolutely nothing Harry Potter. It's all JKR's. It's her amazing world, and I thank her for it.

Chapter 8:

"Well, then that settles it," said James. "We're going to figure a way to keep us from dying."

Both Harry and Lily turned around to face him, with twin expressions of alarm and unease. James momentarily marveled at how much they actually looked like mother and son. And then he realized what their expressions meant, and glared at them both.

"What?" he said, reserving most of his attention for Lily. "I'm sorry, are we just supposed to blithely accept our demise?"

"…no." The hesitation said everything that her one-word answer didn't. Her eyes guiltily skittered away from his and James shook his head. She wasn't going to make him feel bad about this. If Harry's appearance here meant anything, it was the chance to save themselves. James was certain.

Harry, meanwhile, looked crestfallen. "I shouldn't have told you…" he lamented, biting his lip. "Dumbledore—"

"I don't give a fig about Dumbledore!"

"Harry has a point," Lily interrupted. "We can't just—"

"_What_? This is _insane_!" James stepped away from both of them, incredulous that they were actually ganging up on him over this. "Harry just told us that we die when he is just a baby! You don't want to change that?!"

"It's not a matter of what I want." Lily flushed angrily. "It's a matter of whether we _should_."

"Please Lily, explain to me the downside of staying alive." James crossed his arms, intense irritation welling up in the pit of his stomach.

"It could affect the future in ways that we can't even _comprehend_, James. And you aren't God, you can't predict what could come of that."

"Sure I can. We live, we live happily ever after with _our son_…" Lily shook her head and looked away at the implication. And that move made James angrier than anything else that had happened today.

"But of course," he said, sounding bitter despite every attempt to the contrary. "What really steams you about all of this is the very idea that you would ever marry me or have my child, right? Like you would ever condescend to give in to an arrogant burk like me, because nothing's really changed, right?"

Lily snapped her bright green eyes up to his own, but her gaze was stone cold, almost hateful. "Don't you _dare_ ever say that to me again, James. That has_ nothing_ to do with this." Her voice was quiet, but deadly and in his discomfort at her reaction, he almost forgot that he was the one who was supposed to be angry.

"No?" he finally said, not trusting himself to say anything else. He automatically ran a hand through his hair, obliterating any semblance of neatness it may have had. And the corners of Lily's mouth twitched as she watched the familiar gesture, feeling something she couldn't identify. But then she sighed.

"No."

James was pretty sure they had just agreed on something. But he wasn't explicitly sure on what. Whatever it was, it made him fractionally calmer. And Lily, seeing her opportunity, seized his faltering resolve to make her case.

"Potter, you've been in this world long enough to know that fooling with time can have extremely dangerous consequences. And that's the whole problem. People think that they know better and what could happen? And they end up doing irreparable damage."

She pleaded to his blank expression with her eyes, and then cast a sideways glance at the young boy next to her. "Harry lived," her voice shook just slightly, the only sign of emotion she allowed to break through her veneer. "We don't even know why… But what if we try to…to fix this and he doesn't? Then not only are we dead, but so is our son. And everything…" she closed her eyes tightly, forbidding them from glazing with tears, "everything that he could _become_ would be gone. And there wouldn't be another chance."

James drew a long, shaky breath, trying not to be moved by her words or the way she was _looking_ at him. But he didn't _agree_ with her.

"Look, Evans, I don't want to argue with you about this." He couldn't opt to say anything more diplomatic. "So let's worry about it later, alright? I'm not saying that I agree, just…that we shouldn't argue in front of the child."

Lily rolled her eyes at his half-joke, but James could see the satisfaction hidden there. He was determined that they continue the issue later. She figured that she had won already. If they ever did get married, he was done for, he thought grimly. She was really only at the point of _tolerating_ him now, and he still felt like he could deny her nothing. What would that mean for him, if they ever moved past mere tolerance?

The evidence that they would indeed move past it was standing right in front of them, his young face rife with distress. He mumbled something that couldn't be heard over the rushing din of the wind. "What?" James asked.

"I said, I wish it _had_ been me…" Harry looked embarrassed at the confession, and Lily looked absolutely appalled, mirroring James' own feelings. Immediately, their quarrel was forgotten.

"How can you _say_ something that?"

Harry flushed, a bit sheepish at upsetting his teenage mother like this. But he shrugged, unable to honestly take it back. It was what he had said right before the mirror brought him here, and nothing that had happened to him had changed that feeling. He didn't care how it sounded; both of his parents would die young, with their whole lives ahead of them. Two lives for the rate of one. He didn't think that was very fair. And he decided that he was more qualified to make that judgment than they were—he had seen life on both ends. He knew better.

"You got some stones to say that, little bloke, considering we're the ones that end up six feet under," said James. Lily's eyes flickered over at him to note that he wasn't smiling. But then, neither was Harry.

"I'm just telling you the truth," Harry replied. "I wish you were still alive."

"Fine, that's normal," Lily said. "But wishing yourself dead instead isn't."

"I'll agree with the lady here," James said. "Do you think that's what your parents—I mean, _we_ would have wanted?"

"Well really, it doesn't matter what you would have wanted because you aren't there."

"Hey—" James started angrily, but Harry bust across him.

"Don't tell me what I should feel about it!" he said hotly. "You've no idea what it's been like, all this time."

"It's better off than being dead, Harry," Lily said gently, exchanging glances with James. This sudden peak of temper from the boy had surprised them. He had been so patient and accommodating.

"Really? How would you know?!" Harry glowered at her. "You know what they did? They told me that my parents died in a car crash and they made me sleep in a cupboard under the stairs. She hated you and now she hates me too! She said she never wanted me because I was a freak! But I never knew why until I got the letter from Hogwarts. And then they didn't even want me to go and just get away from them, no. Because they can't stand anything about magic."

"Who's they?" James asked him, sounding outraged by this, trying to dissect Harry's rant enough that it would make sense.

"Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon," Harry's voice was still raised. "Because you're gone, I have to live with them."

"T-Tuney?" Lily said, her eyes wide. Her sister was raising her son? "But why? Why didn't you live with—"

"They were the only people left," Harry answered curtly. "I don't know. What does it matter? That's who I live with. So tell me that I wouldn't be better off dead, I really don't care. You don't know anything about it. At least wherever you two are, you aren't alone."

Lily and James were stunned by Harry's sudden hostility, trying to work out everything he had said. Harry stormed off, towards the house, but still within sight. Lily made to follow him, but James tugged her skirt lightly, signaling her to stay back. "Wait a sec, okay?"

She obeyed, thinking that as a member of the male species himself, James probably knew when they would rather be left alone. And she was still reeling from Harry's impassioned outburst, feeling increasingly troubled by what she heard from him. And the more she heard, the more she believed one thing was becoming more and more apparent.

Harry's situation was _her_ fault.

"Come again?" James swiveled his head in her direction, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. Lily hadn't realized that she'd spoken aloud, but she must have and she didn't see the point in getting in an argument with him by lying.

"This whole thing?" Lily lifted a dull, hopeless arm towards the boy sitting near the house, looking up at the afternoon sky. "It's me, James. My fault."

"How'd you figure?"

"Did you _hear_ him?" Lily demanded. "He's miserable. He quite literally wishes that he wasn't alive." Looking for something to focus on, she mimicked Harry, lifting her face and half-hoping the sun would just blind her. "And everything that's happened to him is my fault…" Trying to hide her tears left her voice sounding breathy and high-pitched. She didn't want to get too upset and start having a panic attack. They needed to talk to Harry. That was more important.

"That doesn't answer my question." She suddenly felt James' nearness, so close that she could feel the slight heat of his body, knowing that if she just turned, she could bury her face in his chest. The temptation to do so was magnificent. He breathed, and it ruffled the hair on her head, and she closed her eyes, instinctually taking solace. "What are you on about, Evans?" he murmured, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Just since this year, without Snape's constant, toxic thoughts in her ear, James had touched her a little more frequently. And she had allowed most of it, laughing it off. Not inviting it, but not necessarily turning it away either. It didn't hurt anything, did it? But this was different…and how? She was struck now by how badly she wanted to just…take comfort in him and accept how gentle he could be sometimes…

She didn't want to consider the fact that this could have been a latent desire, something that had been brewing for at least a couple of months. Rather, maybe it was because Harry had connected them, whether or not he really was their son.

"Maybe he's insane. Maybe _we're_ mad to believe him," Lily whispered. Even with the gust, he was standing close enough to hear everything she said. She didn't actually believe her own words, but she had no desire to answer his prior question, or to talk about why this was her fault. Unburdening herself at that moment seemed inappropriate. And as she had backed off when the subject of the Shrieking Shack came up, James returned the favor in kind, by giving her some time.

"Part of me would like to believe that," James said. He left it at that, knowing that they were in sync on at least this level. Knowing that Harry was their son made extraordinary sense to them. But they couldn't explain why, and trying to explain to anyone else (except perhaps Dumbledore) would earn them both nothing but a one-way ticket to St. Mungo's for a thorough head examination.

Lily turned into him, his proximity forcing her to turn her head up quite a bit to look him in the eye. "Have you wondered…" she trailed off, a little uncertain, and perhaps a little distracted by how close he was, and the reassuring strength he was exuding.

"What?"

The question had been on her mind ever since Harry had announced that he was their son. And she would be lying if she said she hadn't imagined it even before that. But accepting that Harry could possibly be theirs would be paramount to accepting that she would accept a romantic relationship with James Potter sometime in the future.

She blinked. "How we get from, well…._this_…to that?"

He was going to guess that "_this"_ meant their pretty steady flow of bickering, teasing and antagonizing on his part, dislike (which he was almost sure was feigned) and exasperation on her part. She told him that she hated him; he told her that she was beautiful. She pushed him away, but he held fast. She never ran fast enough that he couldn't catch her. He didn't think she was even trying anymore.

And he didn't think that was his arrogance talking.

He tucked a finger under her chin and his hazel eyes were just honest and open…like he was allowing her to see everything in him. His lips tilted up in a little smirk and unconsciously, her lips did the same.

"Oh, Evans," he said. "It's not that far from _this_ to that. Not that far at all."

The air wavered between them powerfully for a moment before she willfully broke it off, drawing her eyes to Harry, who was now watching them.

"Is that long enough?" she asked, and she tried to smile, but it felt and appeared forced, and James let his hand drift away from her cheek, frowning down at her as something occurred to him.

"What do we say to him?"

Oh.

Lily hadn't thought of that. That boy, Harry…he was her _son_. She hadn't given much thought to what that meant. And this wasn't about her, or James, or their problems.

"He's alone."

"Well, yeah, Evans, he walked off."

Lily shook her head impatiently. "No, I mean…he made mention that we weren't lonely…because he _is_ lonely."

James stared towards the house and thought about that, his jaw tightening. He hoped that Harry was exaggerating about that cupboard thing. "Your sister, Petunia, right? She's a bitch."

Lily's immediate instinct was to object to James' slight, but she couldn't. If what Harry was saying about Petunia was true, she couldn't imagine what she had ever done to her sister that she would inflict such cruelty on Lily's only child. James was right; Petunia _was_ a bitch.

"I guess Harry being put in Petunia's care means that there was literally _no one_ else that could take him in."

"Yeah, you know, I don't get that," James said. "I mean, if worst comes to worst, I know that Padfoot would…"

Lily voiced the thought that had struck James, deciding not to remark on the suggestion that Sirius Black would _ever_ raise her child. "Sirius may have died too," she said sadly. "Who knows how many that maniac would bring down before getting to us. He's already extremely powerful. And because of that, all Harry had were two relatives that would never bother to understand who he is and that just—" She bit off angrily, beginning to feel tears again. How could her sister have made her son feel that way? Did Petunia really hate her that much?

James was pensive. "But…when he got the letter, things must have gotten better, right?"

Harry hadn't said anything about his life at Hogwarts. Lily exhaled wearily. "Well, obviously, we wouldn't be any experts on his life, you know, because..." she was having an amazing amount of trouble saying 'dead', so she didn't, settling for a lame, "so I suppose we'll have to go ask him."

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Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeve quickly, banishing the any traces of grief from his face, and stared deliberately into the sun. He hadn't meant to get angry or take off like that, which is why he hadn't gone far. They could still see him and he could still see them. But for the moment, he didn't want to see them.

It was the first time he had ever felt something approximating anger towards his parents. There was never any reason for him to be angry with them. If anything—they had given their lives for him. But how do you tell someone who makes a sacrifice like that, that they were better off keeping it to themselves?

He went over what he had said to Lily and James and winced to himself. He probably shouldn't have gone so far as to imply that he wished he was dead, but… in that moment, it was what he believed. And now…

He furtively glanced over at the sixteen year-old versions of his parents and saw that they were standing very close to each other. Lily looked upset and James was saying something to her in a low voice, tucking her hair behind her ear tenderly. Harry huffed and looked away, unable to understand them—their strange combination of animosity and intimacy. He doubted that he would ever understand it. But really, he thought reluctantly, something about them together did make him smile. And he wasn't sure why that was either.

Harry looked over again and now they were so close that you probably couldn't have slipped a sheet of paper between them. James was tilting Lily's head up to his and they weren't saying anything. But the spell was broken the next moment, when the redhead turned and caught Harry watching them. And after another short exchange, they started walking his way.

Harry briefly pondered getting away from them again, but ultimately decided against it. They had now said so much that he didn't know what they were going to say to him. And he didn't know what he wanted from them.

When they reached him, Lily gave the Shrieking Shack a wary look before sinking down to sit next to Harry. Harry offered her a tight-lipped smile, to show that he wasn't going to bite their heads off for approaching him. She smiled back and he idly thought she was very pretty when she did that. James seemed to think so too, because he watched her for a beat longer than usual, before sitting back on his haunches.

"We're sorry, Harry." Lily said. "We didn't mean to upset you."

"I know…" Harry mumbled. "I'm sorry I got so mad."

"You don't have to be sorry, mate," James said quickly. His hand went to his hair, shuffling it nervously. And to Harry, it was funny to think that this man, who was really not even a man yet, was his father. With their age difference, James could have been his older brother.

"You know, ah, we haven't been there…obviously. We don't know what your life has been like." James laughed awkwardly and his eyes dropped to the ground. "We just…we wanted…"

"Harry, it's just that…we died." Lily ignored the word and pressed on. "And I know that if I…if I were to have done that, like you said…the best thing that I could know for myself is that you were all right. That you were being taken care of and you knew that you were loved."

"Exactly," James sounded relieved. "Just what Evans said."

"And we know that we're not your parents right now." She looked down at him, wanting to make sure he was looking back at her and that he heard this. "But I believe you when you say that we _will_ be."

Harry felt a weight suddenly lift from his chest at her affirmation. They believed him. They believed that they were his parents. They believed he was their son. He didn't have to hide the fact that he saw them as such, because they knew and they were okay with it. They accepted it and they accepted him.

"Thanks," he said, unable to express how much it meant.

Lily nodded.

"Of course, that also means that we can't have you go wandering around wishing to be dead," James said. The words were flippant, but pointed. And Harry bowed his head.

"I don't know if I completely meant that…"

Lily placed a hand on his shoulder, warm and solid. "I hate that my sister has treated you like she did. And if I were alive, I'd curse her into oblivion for it." When Harry looked up, his mother was smiling ruefully. "But…I hope that since you've been to school, things have been better."

"It has," Harry said, deciding to be truthful. "I mean, at first it was…everyone knew more about me than I did. And everybody was telling me what you both were like. That was weird. But I fit in, I think. It feels good to be at Hogwarts."

"That's good." Lily sounded like she had a head cold and James looked slyly at her.

"Aw, no tears now, Evans. The little bloke is fine and even sorta happy. Why do you birds always cry about the good things?"

"Shut up, Potter!" she whacked James with the back of her hand, upsetting the balance of his crouching legs and causing him to fall back. She resolutely refused to wipe at her eyes. "I'm not crying."

But James was still grinning, sitting back on his hands now. "Whatever you say, love."

"Git…"

James shifted his attention to Harry. "Well then… Harry Potter." Lily noticed that their smiles were identical. "Why don't you tell us what the Hogwarts from the future is like? I think you mentioned Dumbledore still being alive?"

They still needed answers. James and Lily would surely have another argument about what to do with Harry's information about their deaths. They didn't know how to explain their disappearance today to their friends. But in that moment, they pushed it aside. In that moment, it would be enough for both of them just to sit with Harry and talk to him.

Harry laughed. And tell them he did.

A/N: Love it or hate it? All opinions are welcome...I think ;)


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